The World of the Creatures Part 2: Hope and War
by pmraptor98
Summary: 4 years later, and a fledgling civilization has taken root in the world of Patrick Murphy's mind. Patrick and his friends have all settled into their respective routines, but there are signs of great upheaval to come as profound revelations come to light. Warning:self-insert. Using the story to examine myself as a person. Self-indulgent, but not mindlessly so.
1. Chapter 1 - Friday

**Chapter 1: Friday**

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"Almost," Darren said, washing his hands in the sink.

"Okay, good," I said quietly to myself. I hadn't put my gloves on yet, so I took the opportunity to do so. Though they looked and felt a lot like nitrile, these gloves were made of a synthetic yet biodegradable compound the Silurians called polyhygophilate. In addition to being more environmentally friendly, they were also a lot easier to take on and off.

"Alright," Darren said, standing by the table, "Ready."

"Excellent," I said, going over to the camera and taking my place behind the lense. I pressed record and said, "And rolling."

"Right," Darren said, "This is Dr. Darren Naish, M. Phil, PhD at the Institute for Integrated Biology Dissection Laboratory. The date is Friday, May 7, year 4. The time is 14:44 hours. Today I will be performing a dissection on a recently collected specimen from the NorthEast territory, coordinates 11.98 by 44.38. Specimen is 2.5 meters in length from nose to tail, and weighs 223.66 kilograms."

At that point, Darren moved behind the table to allow the camera a better view of the specimen in question, which was lying belly up on its back. All in all, the creature resembled a gigantic salamander, though instead of having a small, rounded head, the snout was long and triangular in profile when viewed from above. The smooth skin was dried out, and the short limbs stuck out slightly as rigor had already begun to set in. The tissue around the edges of the mouth were pulled back slightly, revealing thin, sharp teeth.

"The overall body proportions suggest a non-amniote tetrapod. The skull shape, and the presence of four digits on the forelimbs and five on the hindlimbs suggests a temnospondyl. The lack of ventral plates and wedge-shaped tail confirm the animal as a trematosaur. The size of the animal, as well as its known habitat preferences strongly suggest the animal's identity as _Benthosuchus_, though further research will have to be conducted before this can be determined."

Before Darren could say anything else, I gently said to him, "A little louder Darren."

"Oh okay," he said, clearing his throat. "We'll begin by making a medial-sagittal incision, starting in the thoracic cavity and moving along to the abdominal cavity." Darren picked up a scalpel. The white light overhead flashed brilliantly on its silver blade before Darren brought it down to the creature's body, easily sliding it into its tender flesh.

As Darren dissected the amphibian, I kept my attention on the camera, making sure to capture whatever was most necessary for the shot. Sometimes that meant a wide shot of the process of dissection, and other times it meant a close up shot of wherever in the creature's body Darren had in his hands. All the while, I kept pulling at my pants, which were slowly sinking down below my waist.

"So here we have confirmation that the specimen is female," Darren said, holding up a handful of what looked like squishy marbles. "The thoracic cavity is filled with eggs typical of early tetrapods with visible larvae. Also note the presence of extensive fatty tissues here and here," he said, pointing to parts of the creature's body, which I made sure to capture with the camera.

Darren removed the heart, which was relatively small and had only three chambers instead of four, and placed it onto a nearby scale. He did the same with most of the other organs. The total dissection took around an hour to complete, at which point Darren gave his concluding observations.

"Specimen is an older adult female, showing clear signs of pregnancy as well as parasitic infection," Darren said.

A grim thought popped into my mind. _What's the difference?_

He continued. "Known pathologies include a fracture of the fifth digit on the left hindlimb, and a healed fracture of the right scapulacoracoid. Gut contents include several fish, one small mammal, and one jet darter. Evidence supports the animal as a species of _Benthosuchus_, though evidence of skeletal anatomy will have to be collected before a proper identification can be made. Once again, this is Darren Naish from the Institute for Integrative Biology Dissection laboratory, and that concludes this examination."

"And...cut," I said, making sure to leave a few seconds at the end. "Alright, that should be good."

"Patrick, you need to find a belt," Darren said, "Or else get some smaller pants. Those ones clearly don't fit you anymore. It was distracting watching you keep pulling them up."

"I know, I know," I said, unconsciously pulling them up yet again. "I just keep forgetting. I've got a lot on my mind...you know, in case you haven't noticed."

Darren snickered. "When do you think you'll have the video up by?"

"Eh, later tonight. Maybe Monday, we'll see," I said with a shrug. "What have you got planned next?"

"I'm going out on a field expedition with Lisa and Mark. We're heading Southeast, we got rumor of what might be a megalania."

"Ooohh, here's hoping," I said, crossing my fingers.

"What about you?"

"Well, first I gotta check on the skeletal collection. If we finally got a new shipment of hydrogen peroxide in, then there are a few carcasses in the freezer that need to be cleaned. If not, then I have the beetles working on, like, four or five, so that'll keep me busy."

Before either of us could say anything else, a voice called out from a speaker in the corner of the room. "Patrick to specimen pick up please, Patrick to specimen pick up."

"Oh...well then, nevermind," I said with a shrug. "I'll see you later, Darren."

"Take care, Patrick," he said, taking off the gloves.

Specimen pick up was just a fancy term for when people brought in dead animals to the Institute for a modest finder's fee. The incentive was Tom Holtz's idea. He pitched it several months previously, and so far it was proving to be very effective. Specimen pickup was located in the main lobby of the Institute, three floors down from the dissection lab. After a quick trip in the elevator, I found myself in the lobby, where a pleasant surprise was waiting to greet me.

"Hey, Ciri!" I said upon seeing the ashen-haired, green-eyed young woman standing in the lobby, something large sitting at her feet. On her shoulder sat a small bird, no more than 6 inches tall; blue with white feathers on its breast, and small patches of red on its face. It was a pied-winged swallow (which, if you were wondering, is an African swallow, not a European swallow). The little bird had found Ciri some three months prior, after she cut down a fiend rampaging through a small village on the outskirts of the city.

"Hello Patrick!" she said cheerfully, her hands on her hips. "How's work?"

"Going well," I said with a nod. "Darren and I just finished dissecting a temnospondyl. How about you? Did you just take care of this?" I said, pointing at the object by her feet.

It was a bulky skull with two tall, curving horns sprouting from the crown, and with long shaggy hair growing profusely all along the jawline. Despite the hair, the overall profile of the head was reptilian, with wide red scales covering the face, and fearsome yellow teeth protruding from the front of the mouth like butcher knives. It was severed at the base of the skull, and there was still blood dripping from the open wound onto the floor of the lobby.

"You know they really don't like it when you do that," I said, pointing to the blood pooling on the hard tiled floor.

"Not my problem," she said with a shrug, "So how much do you think I can get for a royal wyvern?"

"Let's take a look," I said, moving over to behind the front desk and pulling out a large dolly with an anti-magnetic bottom that allowed it to hover - an invention of the Ice Warriors. Together, Ciri and I hoisted the skull onto the dolly. A small screen by the handlebars registered the number 24.59.

I whistled. "Wow, almost 25 kilos. Must have been one nasty motherfucker."

"He was. Gave me at least three new scars," she said proudly.

"Oh lovely," I said with a laugh. "Would you show them to me?"

"I can show you one," she said, pulling down the neckline of her blouse to show off her right shoulder, where a bloody streak was cut into her skin. "The other two are a bit more personal, if you understand."

"Say no more," I said, looking away and going back to the screen. "Now, let's see how much a royal wyvern is worth." I punched in a few commands, and an image flashed on the screen showing four circles. Each one was labeled, and they read, from left to right: Unknown, poorly known, known, and well known. After I typed in 'royal wyvern' into the search engine, the results told me that royal wyverns were classified as 'poorly known' by the Monster Division of the IIB, known from only two specimens - another skull, and the lower half of a carcass. "So another skull will net you….540 macredits! That's more than I was expecting! Guess the Monster Division really needs more data on royal wyverns."

"Excellent!" Ciri said. "That's more than enough to finally buy that necklace I was telling you about last week!"

"The one with the amber pendant?"

"That's the one!"

I smiled at her, "That's great to hear! I can't wait to see how it looks on you!"

"You should come with me to pick it up!" she suggested. "While we're out, we can find you some new clothes that fit better."

"Ugh, you're the second person to say something about that today," I complained.

She shrugged. "If you just got it over with, people would stop."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I said, waving her off. "Anyway, I should get this skull to the skeletal preparation lab before it bleeds out all over the lobby."

"Very well then," Ciri said, "I'll see you at the palace tonight."

The rest of my day consisted of storing Ciri's royal wyvern head in the freezer and checking on our collection of dermestid beetles which we use to help clean the meat off of bones. They'd been working for three days on a small multituberculate mammal, and an Eocene gecko. I also had a few reports to complete, but by the time 5 O'clock came around - or rather, 17:00 hours as was the officially designated time in the city - it was time to head home.

Home for me was a nice little room in the palace that had been carved by the dwarves into the basalt cliffs surrounding the Great Tree. The palace was by far the most magnificent of all the buildings constructed in our fledgling city. It's towers were as tall as skyscrapers, and its walls had been polished so thoroughly that sunlight shone harshly off of their pure black surfaces. The whole thing was surrounded by a circular wall of solid rock over 20 feet thick, the only way through being a drawbridge that was lowered down over a moat 15 feet deep. Within the keep, the walls and spires were lined with battlements, and the halls within were gigantic and sprawling. Dain and his kin had more than delivered on their promise.

The Institute for Integrative Biology was located several miles from the palace, though the commute was only a few minutes thanks to an efficient public transportation system. The council respected the wishes of the ents, the Na'vi, the elves, and all other free folk who love trees, though that's not to say that some didn't have to be sacrificed. In order to support the city, massive struts and stilts had to be dug into the ground, some of which were as wide as the largest trees. But the ents made sure that no more trees were taken than were needed for the needs of the city and its inhabitants, and they pressured us to choose older or dead trees, or to move them rather than cutting them down outright..

By the time the city was complete, it looked superficially like a gigantic collection of tinker toys. Long, cylindrical connectors joined buildings spanning a huge variety of shapes and sizes, From tall towers capped with high domes, to spiraling cones that resembled enormous snail shells. Many of them had expansive platforms at the top where aerial transports could dock and take off. The connectors that joined all these myriad were tunnels large enough to accommodate walkways, shops, theaters, restaurants, and even parks. Some of these tunnels were open air, while others were completely sheltered. All of the walls were coated, at least in part, by a special black paint that acted like solar panels, absorbing the rays of the sun - or suns - overhead. Patches of contrasting white paint reflected the sunlight back on to the forest blow, ensuring that the shadows cast by the buildings wouldn't kill any trees or other jungle plants. To make sure that all of the city's many residents were comfortable, a number of specialized amenities had been integrated into its planning. For example, in addition to benches, there were also perches for the flying creatures to rest on, and below the surface of the walkways were additional tunnels filled with substrate for the legless folk to use.

I stood on a platform outside the entrance to the tower which housed the Institute for Integrative Biology, awaiting the train that would take me home. The train system was made of a series of fully-automated flying trains that snaked through the winding web of tunnels connecting the city, picking up citizens of every sort. Private vehicles were mostly unnecessary in the city, so much so that it was more practical to rent them rather than purchase them for most. Even then, manual driving was illegal because the transportation system was so specifically calibrated that it couldn't handle the sudden introduction of unpredictable, intelligent beings into the mix. The only exception was for citizens who could fly naturally, and for beings who rode flying creatures, since they had much greater maneuverability.

All of this was synthesized from the knowledge and creativity of all the species that lived there. The palace was the work of the dwarves, while the tunnel system was adapted from a similar one originally developed by the Legless People. The public transportation was the brainchild of the Venatorials, while the energy was generated by a system developed by the Yautja. The layout of the city was only possible with the help of magic to maintain the structural integrity of the city's entire infrastructure. The city truly was a melting pot of all the best ideas from the creatures that made it their home.

As I stood waiting for my train, I caught something out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see an enormous beast strutting toward me. It was absolutely massive - barrel chested, with fat bulging from its neck, and with a thick, muscular tail. Powerful, bird-like legs carried the creature's immense bulk, with a pair of tiny, two-fingered arms held close to its wide torso. The skull was covered with hard, keratinous bosses over its eyes and along the top of its snout, with a smooth cornified sheath covering its face like a mask. With the jaws closed, the bone-crushing banana-shaped teeth were hidden behind lizard-like lips. The whole animal was covered in tiny, pebbly scales, though there were coarse, hair-like proto feathers sparsely covering its back, similar to an elephant. Its scaly hide was colored like dried blood, with pale grey spots dotting the back and a white face. The facial sheath was black, obscuring its eyes and adding to the illusion that it was wearing a mask. In total, the _Tyrannosaurus rex _was larger than a city bus.

I was initially terrified when the titanic predator ambled lazily toward me, and even as I realized that it had no desire whatsoever to hurt me, I still felt uneasy while it was close. It was such a powerful animal, that a simple misplaced foot or careless sweep of its tail could snap my spine like a toothpick. But I felt better as I saw the somewhat-portly, middle-aged frame of Professor Thomas R. Holtz Jr. approaching beside her. His goofy smile and childlike eyes were always a comfort.

He waved to me. "Afternoon Patrick! Got any plans for after work?"

"Not much," I said, waving at him as well., "Just gonna hang out with a couple friends in the palace. What about you?"

"A few of us are heading to the Angry Oliphant for happy hour. You're welcome to join us if you want," he said, offering a hand to extend the invitation.

I shook my head. "Nah, I think I'm gonna rest a bit before I see my friends. Where's the Angry Oliphant?"

"It's just a few streets off from the Southside of the palace. It's a nice little place, hobbit run! Best beer in the city!"

"Oh damn," I said. "Maybe some other night. Definitely would love to check it out."

"Sure thing," he said. "Have a good one."

"Thanks, you too."

"Come on, Roberta," he said to the _T. rex_, gently patting its ankle. The _T. rex_ snorted once in reply.

Holtz and his tyrannical spirit creature passed by me. Holtz was one of the first people after me to find their spirit creature, which wasn't surprising in the least. As a five year old, Holtz was once asked what he wanted to be growing up, and he answered with, "I want to be _Tyrannosaurus rex_!" As an adult, he had to settle for simply being the world's leading expert on the animal, along with its closest relatives. It's only natural that he, and most of the other paleos would experience moments of self actualization in a world where their deepest passions were brought to life in a way they'd never imagined. These moments are what caused their spirit creatures to find them, and to bond with them just as my _Dakotaraptor _had done with me. Ciri bonded with her spirit creature - the swallow - shortly after she'd completed her first monster-hunting contract, putting her back on the path of being a witcheress.

My train came to pick me up just a few minutes after that. When I boarded the car, I saw three Silurians, five humans, a yautja, and a symbiote riding with me. At the risk of tooting my own horn, I was somewhat famous at that point - it was widely known that the world we now lived in was most-likely constructed from my mind. So when they all saw me, many of them waved and nodded, which I answered in turn. After just a 10 minute ride, I was back at the entrance to the palace.

The drawbridge was always open - a symbol of the declaration of friendship and unity upon which the city was founded. Numerous species passed through the enormous entrance hall doorway, which was over 100 feet tall by necessity. The Eosapiens weren't the only mega-beings to have paid us a visit. Giants from the mountains to the East had sent an envoy to meet us, and we even paid host to a herd of Brontosapiens - intelligent brontosaurs who manipulated tools with prehensile tongues, and had a particular fondness for smoking. A few pterosapiens soared over my head on their way out, and a troop of apes briskly made their way past me and up a flight of stairs. I nearly ran head first into a dinosauroid, mostly because I didn't see her at first: she was half my height, and her feathers matched the color of the floor. I apologised before tripping over a Saurosapient's tail, to which I also quickly made amends.

"Oy, Patrick!" a voice called out from off to the left. I turned to see the Doctor waving me down. But it wasn't the grey-maned, manic 12th Doctor of Peter Capaldi. Instead, it was his previous incarnation: the 11th Doctor portrayed by Matt Smith. He was taller and lankier than Capldi's Doctor, dressed in a tweed jacket, dark trousers, and wearing a red bow tie. His eyes were narrower, and far kinder than the 12th Doctor's, and he had a long cowleck of hair sweeping to his right and a very prominent chin.

"Doctor!" I said, going over to him. "What's up?"

"We've got a new member joining the CUI," he said, gesturing to a man standing next to him. The man in question was dull, pale grey with dark eyes, and points of white hair growing from the edges of a receding hairline. He wore a dark leather tunic over a long sleeved shirt.

"Ahh, Regis!" said, extending my hand toward the vampire.

"Greetings," Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzeiff Godefrey said, shaking my hand. His hand was somewhat clammy, and was cooled to room temperature. "I see that my reputation proceeds me."

"Geralt's mentioned quite a bit about you," I said, which wasn't true. I don't think Geralt had mentioned Regis at any point in nearly 4 years of knowing him.

"I dread to think," Regis said jokingly, clutching a leather strap over his chest. .

"So, you're joining the CUI then?" I asked, picking up the point of conversation from the Doctor.

Regis nodded. "Yes, my first meeting is tonight. I'll be representing the interests of those vampires who are sympathetic to the cause of universal equality, peace, and justice."

"Can't be a large group," I said grimly.

"I would take offense, but I'm afraid you're correct," Regis said. "In truth, it's been rather difficult to organize vampires in this world because that label seems to cover a wide variety of beings, some of which have little in common apart from their proclivity for living blood. Unfortunately, this seems to predispose the vast majority of them to cruelty and violence."

"How large would you say the group you're representing actually is?" I asked him.

"At this point," he said, "I could count them all one one hand."

"Yikes," I said.

The Doctor interjected. "No worries," he said cheerfully, "We don't judge a species by the size of its population. All beings are welcome here, Regis," and he bowed his head.

"I thank you, Doctor," Regis said, returning the bow. "I hope that we can add to the causes and aims of the Council, if only in some small way." Then he turned to me. "I do just want to briefly say that it has been an absolutely fascinating experience exploring your world for the past year," he said to me. "The diversity of living creatures - both in terms of disparity of forms and number of species - is positively staggering. I honestly can't remember the last time in 400 years when I've learned so much."

I smiled, feeling a fuzzy warm feeling of pride in my heart. "Thank you," I said nervously.

"I very much look forward to working with you," he said, smiling with pursed lips.

"Don't get too excited," I said, holding up a warning hand. "I don't actually serve much on the Council. Even though I know a lot about the world itself, I don't actually have any experience as goes a diplomat. I'll pop in every once in a while in a sort of advisory capacity, but the Council has been pretty good at managing its own affairs."

"I see," Regis said. "I can't argue with the results."

"Well, come along Regis," the Doctor said, spinning around toward a hallway leading deeper into the palace. "We've got to go over Ice Warrior etiquette. Very proud, very touchy beings."

"It was nice to meet you Patrick Murphy," Regis said, waving to me as he followed the Doctor.

"You too Regis. I'll see ya around."

The palace alone was the size of a small town, even not accounting for its many levels. To facilitate movement from one part of the palace to another, short range teleport chambers were installed in regular intervals throughout. I had to use three to make it to my room. Along the way, I caught part of a lively discussion between the sorceress, Philippa Eilhart and Albus Dumbledore (who had become like castual friends and part time rivals) as well as a daily prayer by the Satyriacs. All of these sorts of things were regular and common in the walls of the palace.

When I got to my room, I lay down in bed for about an hour or so, a routine that developed long before I ever came to this world. I used the time to decompress and be alone with my thoughts for a while. In a world that was filled with so many different beings, privacy and alone time were becoming increasingly valuable things. Usually my _Dakotaraptor _\- whom I had decided to name Prasokour after an internet monkor I use, which was in turn usually abbreviated as Pras - would sit by my bedside while I rested, but he had been gone for the past few days to feed himself. I was hoping he'd be back by then, but alas.

My room fit my personal tastes very closely. In front of my bed was a painting by the paleoartist, Mark Witton, of a group of giant azhdarchid pterosaurs foraging while on the ground. Magic from the Wizarding World allowed the creatures to move and behave as their real counterparts within the picture frame. At my bedside there was a small end table with drawers filled with animal skulls that I took home with me from work. They were all surplus specimens from species which were already well documented and understood by the Institute - a babirusa, an _Ornitholestes_, a hexapede, and a Chinese river dolphin. Just like in my bedroom back in the real world, my dirty clothes were lying in piles on the floor, which Pras sometimes liked to use for bedding in his nest. After a little over an hour, I changed into something a little bit more comfortable than my work clothes and headed to a nearby parlor up one floor and down a hallway.

It was a communal space filled with armchairs, couches, and tables. People would come to enjoy the crackling flames in the fireplace, or to peruse one of the books on the shelves by the entrance. Ciri, Brendan, and I had our own favorite table that we liked to sit at, and as I entered the room, I could only hope that it wasn't taken. Thankfully, Ciri and Brendan were already there. Besides them, a Legless person was curled on a decadent pillow listening to music through headphones, and a pair of elves were reading.

"There he is!" Ciri said, waving me over. "Come on, Brendan's brought the food!"

So he did. He had been good enough to bring a plate of hot wings and two pizzas: one pepperoni, and one cheese with buffalo sauce instead of marinara (my favorite from back home). Next to them, Ciri's swallow was picking from a bowl of mealworms. As far as drinks go, there were was a cooler with bottles of root beer, hard cider, and a few beers. On the table, a bottle of red wine was sitting alongside three small glasses. "Where'd you get this?" I said, pointing to the wine.

"It was a gift from the elves of Mirkwood," Ciri said. "They're the ones who put out the contract on that royal wyvern."

"Was that in addition to actual pay?" I asked

"Of course," she said, sipping from the glass.

"How generous," I said, taking a slice of pizza and pulling out a root beer. "So, how were your respective days."

"Not bad," Brendan said. Like me, Brendan's clothes weren't fitting as well as they had when he first arrived, although for a different reason. Overall, my lifestyle was more active, and I wasn't eating as much in the way of processed foods high in saturated fat and sugar. That was a very difficult adjustment at first, but a person can acclimate to any number of changes given enough time. One of the downsides was that my original clothes didn't fit, and even ones I'd purchased more recently were starting to feel loose. On the other hand, months' worth of training with Geralt had changed Brendan's frame from lanky to lean and well-toned. He wasn't exactly a bodybuilder, but he was definitely more bulky with muscle than the stick-figure frame he had arrived with. His ubiquitous black sweatshirts were starting to look a little tight.

"Did you work today?" I asked him

"Nope," he said, "Spent the day training with Geralt."

"I should thank you then," Ciri said, raising her glass. "If Geralt hadn't been training you, then he might have taken that contract before I did."

"Cheers," Brendan said, raising his bottle of cider.

"How was training?" I asked.

Brendan nodded. "It's been pretty good. Main thing I have to work on is the upward vertical strike. Geralt says it's too obvious."

Ciri smiled slightly. "Vesemir used to tell me the same thing all the time."

"What about you Ciri," I said, guiding her away from the subject of Vesemir. After almost a full four years in this world, we'd still heard no word of the old witcher. "How was the royal wyvern?"

"I was just telling Brendan before you got here." she said. "It was huge, wingspan had to be at least 20 feet. It had been preying on merchants trading between the elves and the city, so I went to the Great Western Road to pick up the trail. I found its nest in a deadfall of old tree trunks."

"How did the fight go?" I asked.

"I hadn't realized it was a royal wyvern by that point, so it got a good hit on me with its tail at the start. Royal wyverns have longer tails than the common ones. Swipe sent me hurtling backwards into a tree. Got a bruise on my stomach from where the tail hit. Luckily for me, wyverns aren't proficient flyers in more closed woodland spaces. This made it far slower and less maneuverable."

"No wonder the elves were so thankful," I said. "A beast like that could wreak havoc with their trade for months."

"They wouldn't have had that problem if they'd just stayed in the city," Ciri said, biting into a slice of pepperoni pizza.

I shrugged. "That's elves for you. They just don't feel as comfortable in an urban environment, so they left. Same with the Na'vi, and the ents. It's just not their kind of lifestyle."

"I have seen a few elves in the city, and there was even a pair of Na'vi that came to the library last week," Brendan pointed.

"Well, yeah, of course they're not completely homogeneous. There will always be odd ones that have interests outside what's normal for their culture," I said glancing over at the two elves sitting with us in the parlor, " You and I should know that better than anyone." Ciri laughed. "Same thing with the Eosapiens, the people of Rohan, and most of the other less technologically developed creatures. All the technology was just too much for them. They needed a space that felt more like important thing is that they're all still part of the Universal Alliance, and you know what that means."

Brendan nodded. "More eyes and ears for us in the eternal struggle against evil forces."

"Speaking of which," Ciri said, "What's the latest on that?"

"I was talking with Gandalf a couple weeks ago, " I said, "and from what he told me, the plan is still working. Dijkstra's informants are still keeping Sauron's forces on a wild goose chase for the One Ring."

"Good," Brendan said, raising his eyebrows slightly, "I can still remember when you told me that Sauron was close to getting it...still gives me shivers."

"What exactly would happen if Sauron got this One Ring?" Ciri asked. "You keep saying that it will make him all powerful again, but how? What will he be able to do that he can't do now?"

Brendan, as a graduate of the University of Vermont with an English degree, and a focus on the works of Tolkien, was the authority here. "Well, the most obvious thing that would happen is that anything influenced by any of the other rings of power would turn to evil use. Considering that the bearers of the elven rings have all played a hand in forming the Universal Alliance, then I dread to think what might happen.

"Apart from that, based on what Gandalf tells Frodo...or, I guess that would be _told _Frodo now that it's no longer in a strictly in-universe context...anyway, based on what Gandalf said, there were no more heroes left in the world who had the will to defy Sauron. What I think that means is he would be able to extend his will over the land."

"You mean, like, take control of our minds?" Ciri asked

"Not exactly," Brendan said. "I think it would be more...subtle than that. I think ultimately what would happen is people would start to defer to their negative feelings more and more. There are things that make us afraid, and angry, and hateful. Usually people are strong enough not to give into those feelings: to deal with them in constructive, healthy ways. But if Sauron possessed the One Ring again, I think people would give into them more. Like, sometimes you have to deal with someone and you just want to punch them in the face, but usually you can keep yourself from doing so. But if Sauron had the Ring, you might find that you do end up punching them. And people might tell you - and you might even tell yourself - that it wasn't the right thing to do, but you'll find that you don't really care. They deserved it. And things like that would keep happening, again and again, and eventually you find it's so easy to just react to everything that displeases you with anger and violence. That's the point when Sauron starts to make sense to you."

"What do you mean?" Ciri asked.

I took over for Brendan, "Sometimes, when you're in a particularly unhealthy, negative state of mind, you just kind of resent everything. Even when you're surrounded by people who care about you, you just want them all to shut up and leave you alone." I was speaking from experience. "When you're in a place like that, you just hate everything. And then along comes someone who has power, and wants to give you power enough to lash out and break and destroy and kill...in that bad place, it's a really tempting offer."

"I think I see," Ciri said. "Although honestly, I've met plenty of people that more than deserved a good punch in the face."

"Oh no question," I said nodding. "That's what makes what Brendan's talking about all the more dangerous. Sometimes, violence is the only way to react to a situation, even if it isn't the 'right' way, so to speak. It can be very easy for a person to trick themselves into thinking they're doing the right thing, when they're actually just being violent and selfish."

"And of course, even then, we make mistakes," Brendan said. "As a very famous writer in our world once said, 'to err is human.' It's that aspect of humanity that Sauron would exploit."

"Sounds devious," Ciri said.

"It's like Gandalf said at the first Council meeting," I said, "Sauron's oldest and most powerful weapon of all is cunning."

"On the other hand," Brendan continued, "Now, there are heroes in the world that might be able to defy Sauron, even with the One Ring. Glorfindel, Beren, Turin, Feanor - Patrick knows about them, so they must be here somewhere. Also, I would think certain other bengs here would be able to resist too. The Doctor, maybe?"

"Good point," I said, taking a bottle of root beer. "Still, at the very least, I think you're right, and our resolve to resist his forces would weaken tremendously. With any luck, he'll never find it."

"Here's to that," Brendan said raising his cider.

"So we do know where it is then?" Ciri asked.

"We do," I said. "Dijkstra's sources have confirmed that Gollum has it, and he's hiding out somewhere to the Northwest. Sauron was actually really close to stumbling across his hiding place in the mountains, but then we sent some false rumors that sent him heading Southwest from there."

"Who's Gollum?" Ciri asked.

Brendan answered. "He used to be a hobbit. He was fishing with his cousin one day, and his cousin found the One Ring at the bottom of the river. When he found it, Gollum - who was called Smeagol at the time - saw it, and wanted it for himself."

"The Ring can arise feelings of intense desire to possess it," I added.

"They fought over it, and Gollum ended up killing his cousin over it. Now, one thing the ring does is make the wearer invisible, and Gollum was sneaky, devious little bastard who liked to spy on people and learn their secrets. Eventually, everyone else in his village got fed up with his behavior, and he got kicked out.

"Gollum liked dark, cool places so he found a place to live under the Misty Mountains. The Ring extended Gollum's natural lifespan - now, it didn't generate new life, it just took his existing life and stretched it out. Over the years, Gollum withered away into a small, frog-like creature who spends his time babbling to himself and catching fish."

"Sounds horrid," Ciri said.

"It is," I said, "And sad. Poor Gollum has been consumed by the Ring for so long, he simply can't do without it, even after all the horrible things it's done to him."

"Can't feel too sorry for him," Ciri said. "He did kill his cousin after all."

"But even that was caused by the Ring," I said. "And in the end, it was pity for Gollum that saved the entire world."

"Well, just as long as I don't have to deal with him," Ciri said, taking a bite out of a wing. "Either of you guys want to play gwent?" she asked through a full mouth.

"Sure. Old rules or new?" I asked.

"Uh...damn, I only have my deck for the old version," she said, pulling out her cards.

"That's fine, I don't mind the old version. Sometimes I think the new version too complicated." I said.

"I'll play winner," Brendan said.

Ciri and I put out our decks and drew our hands. We both had decks from the Northern Realms faction, since the old version was broken in favor of decks with a lot of spy cards. This ruled out the Monster and Scoi'tael decks, and neither of us cared much for Nilfgaard. She went first and played a card I love when I have it, but despise when it's used against me - the Mysterious Elf, who was actually Avallach in disguise.

"Ahh, starting off strong," I said. "How is Avallach anyway?"

"He was doing alright last time I checked, but that was several months ago," Ciri said. "Eredin simply isn't interested in my powers anymore, so he's had no reason to pursue me. As a result, Avallach's lost almost all interest in me." She sound somewhat crestfallen by this.

"Maybe he's just bad at keeping in touch?" I suggested, trying to cheer her up. "I have a few friends that are like that."

"But I don't even know how to contact him," she said.

"There's got to be some way, " I said. "Maybe some digital directory or something?"

"Oh please tell me I don't have to use a computer," she said, rolling her eyes. "I hate computers."

"Come on, it'll be quick," I persisted. "I'll help you out even."

"If it's a touch screen, then you can do all the touching," Ciri said. "The damn things don't work for me, I keep telling you"

"And I keep telling you," I said patiently, "It's your fingernails. You have to press with your actual finger." Taking my turn, I used the same card on her.

"Damn," she said as I drew two additional cards. The next card she played was Dandelion,

I laughed. "How is the troubadour, Brendan?" I asked him.

Also laughing, Brendan said, "He and Priscilla have been working on some big thing for the last two months now. They refuse to say anything about it, apart from the fact that she will sing, and he will accompany her on his lute."

"Here's hoping it's anywhere near as good as 'The Wolven Storm.'" I said.

"And reveals just as much about Geralt's personal life," Ciri joked, finishing the wing.

A pause appeared in the conversation as I put down my next card: another spy.. I took the opportunity presented by the break to ask, "So...how are you guys liking things in...you know...this world…?"

"I've been happy!" Brendan said, happily taking a wing from the plate.

"No major complaints here," Ciri said

"That's good- oh damn," I said, as Ciri took my spy card with a decoy.

"Why do you ask?" Ciri asked.

"It's just...I don't know, just...well, since it's 'my' world after all...want to make sure it's all good for everyone, you know?" I asked timidly, feeling a little warm in the face (though that could have just been the sauce).

"It's been pretty good for me so far," Brendan said. "I'm now half-competent with my sword, and I get to work in the largest, most comprehensive library ever! I mean, Starbucks wasn't even that bad, and this beats the hell out of that!"

"And I'm finally able to go and do as I please without having to worry about the Wild Hunt breathing down my neck. None of Avallach's 'No Zirael, you can't expose yourself like that.'" she said, doing a pompous impression of her mentor.

Seeing the opportunity, I quickly said, "Why Ciri, I had no idea you were so fond of exposing yourself."

Brendan laughed, and Ciri proclaimed, "Fuck off, Murphy," though she was smiling.

"Make me, Cirilla," I said, playing a Keira Metz card and then pouring myself a little of the Elven wine.

"Oh you're gonna regret that, I assure you," she said, playing the same card on her side of the field.

"I regret your face," I said stupidly, putting down a siege card.

Brendan spoke up suddenly. "Oh, have you heard the rumors?"

"Which ones?" I asked. "The ones about Karen Gillan, or-?"

He shook his head. "No, the one about Batman."

I turned my head to look at him. "No? What, what are the rumors?"

"Apparently," Brendan said, "Some people are saying that he's made it to town."

"And what are they basing that off of?" I asked, my skeptical mind turning on automatically.

"A Venatorial claimed that a man dressed like a giant bat saved him from an assault by some human thugs."

"Why did they attack him?" I asked.

"I dunno," Brendan said, "I think they just wanted his money."

"So what else is new?" Ciri said sarcastically.

"You know, it's sad really," I said, growing a little frustrated. "We managed to build a city that's completely self-sustaining, environmentally-friendly, with no poverty, no hunger, and almost zero disease...and yet people still do shit like this."

"Take it from me," Ciri said, with a slight bitterness in her voice, "You can be the most powerful person in the entire world, with everything you could ever possibly want or need - and it will still never be enough. People will still take things that don't belong to them under the delusion that it will make them happy. As long as there's more, then people will take it."

"Yeah, you're right," I said with a sigh.

"Still," Brendan said, "Crime rates are really low, especially violent crime. That's especially impressive considering the sheer number of different species that all live together here. I would have thought there'd be more hostility and tension between the different groups, but for the most part, things have been working out fine."

"All credit to that has to go to Gandalf and the Doctor," I said. "They've been working extremely hard to ensure...mostly friendly coexistence between the different species. Things haven't been perfect though. The Yautja and Venatorials are still very upset by the Council's decision on sport hunting."

"Still?" Brendan asked. "I thought they came to a compromise on that?"

"They did, but the Yautja and the Venatorials both felt like they got the short end of the stick out of the deal," I said. "The Yautja in particular are unhappy about it. They feel it's a violation of their religious freedom."

Ciri laughed derisively. "Of all the possible justifications you could imagine for slaughtering innocent people."

"Eh,.,.it's not all that dissimilar to justifications made for atrocious acts in our own world, or yours for that matter," I said. "Remember the mages in Novigrad?."

"I'd rather not," Ciri said, playing a close combat card with the lovely title of 'poor-fucking-infantry.'

"Remind me again what the agreement was?" Brendan asked. "They're allowed to hunt but only non-sapient species?"

I shook my head. "No, it's a little more restrictive than that. They're not allowed to hunt in any of the territories overseen by the the Universal Alliance, regardless of the target. And they're not allowed to hunt any sapient species outside the borders of the known territories either. The Yautja only agreed to it because of a clause that permits the hunting of xenomorphs if they should be discovered inhabiting the known territories," I explained, "since they're a sufficiently high threat to justify their culling."

"Ahh that makes sense," Brendan said.

"Why does that specifically make sense?" Ciri asked.

"Because of all the species that the Yautja hunt, the xenomorphs have the greatest cultural significance, as well as being just about the most dangerous. It is considered a right of passage when a young Yautja kills their first xenomorph warrior, and killing a queen is enough to bestow the status of clan leader."

"Sounds very Skelligan," Ciri said with a smile

Both Brendan and I laughed at that, and Brendan said, "Doesn't it just?"

The game of gwent ended with me winning one round and Ciri winning two, mostly thanks to her having more decoys than I did, permitting her to re-use any spies I used on her. Brendan played her next, and he ended up winning. All the while, more creatures flitted in and out of the lounge. The Legless person slithered out after about an hour and half after I got there, and the elves stuck around for twice as long. An adolescent Asymmetrical popped in briefly to look something up in the library, and an ood appeared for just a moment looking for a colleague. By around 2300 hours, we had our fill of food and drink and moved ourselves outside to a balcony overlooking the North Eastern horizon. The violet and cerulean-striped surface of Polyphemus shone down on us, with its eponymous dark, circular storm peering over the whole of the world. Several smaller moons accompanied it in its orbit, appearing like dark freckles against its backdrop.

We all took a seat, and Ciri sighed deeply. "I love nights when Polyphemus is in the sky."

"It's alright," I said, "though I personally prefer a ringed planet."

"Whereas I," Brendan added, "prefer a purely starry sky."

We said nothing for a while, just allowing the warm night air to settle against our skin. It wasn't a quiet night - no city, no matter how advanced, could really be quiet - but the dull drone of the urban sprawl around us was low enough to keep from intruding upon our contentment.

And then Brendan spoke, dissipating that quiet instantly. "I miss my family."

"I do too," I said after a while, hoping that the pang of guilt I felt wasn't too evident. I didn't try to reassure him by reminding him that his mother, father, and sister were all out there in the world somewhere, because that wasn't a reassuring thought. The world was huge, and filled with all kinds of terrors.

"You may find them yet," Ciri said, turning to look at us. "New arrivals come to the city every day."

"I know," Brendan said, "But it's just been so long. I've never gone this long without at least hearing from them...let alone seeing them. I don't even know if they're safe…" he said with a sniff, "That's the worst part."

I was nauseous with guilt, not only for him, but also for the fact that the same was true for my mother, father, sister, and brother, not to mention my two cats. It wasn't the first time I had to push away awful thoughts of them lost, alone, and under threat in the jungle. I had requested the Council locate them multiple times throughout the year, but they had made no progress. "I'm going to check with one of the Doctor again on the status of finding them," I said somewhat flatly. "They need periodic reminders."

"Which is understandable," Brendan said with s small sigh.

"Though no less frustrating," I added.

"Isn't there anything more we can do?" Ciri asked.

"I don't know," I said. "The Doctor doesn't want me to leave the city. He's worried what might happen to the world if I got seriously hurt."

Brendan raised his eyebrow. "That is a troubling question."

I caught movement in my peripheral vision as something walked out onto the balcony. I turned to see the feathery face of Pras, clutching what looked like a small badger in his jaws. "Hey there, buddy!" I said, my mood rising in an instant. I reached out and gently stroked the feathers on the top of his head, down to his naked snout. He showed his satisfaction simply by closing his eyes. When I finished, he dropped the dead mammal to the floor, and put one foot on its back as he lowered his snout to begin tearing into it with his teeth.

"Does he have to do that here?" Brendan asked.

"Come on Brendan," Ciri said smiling at him, "Haven't got the stomach for it?"

I laughed at Ciri's brazenness, but nonetheless I said, "Okay, come on Pras, take it back inside please." He complied as he took his catch back inside the lounge, which was now deserted.

"Lightweights," Ciri said pridefully.

"Oh come on Ciri," I said, "We just ate! Cut us some slack."

"Never," she said playfully.

Brendan watched as Pras trotted back into the lounge with his dinner. "Damnit," he said wistfully, "When am I gonna find my spirit creature?"

"Don't worry Brendan," Ciri said, as her swallow fluttered on to her shoulder. "It'll happen sooner or later."

"Yeah, that's what people keep saying," Brendan said.

"Did I ever tell you the story of how Geralt found his spirit creature?" Ciri said.

"Well, I heard it from him," I said. "It found him after he completed a contract on a rock troll lurking in a silver mine. It was a little over a month after we first arrived"

Ciri shook her head. "Oh no, it's was a lot more than just that."

"Oh?" Brendan asked.

"Yeah, it;...hm, don't know if I should talk about...if he didn't….eh, what the hell. Just don't go spreading this around, especially to Dandelion."

"Of course," I said, holding out both hands.

"Okay, so," she said, sitting up in her seat, "It started when a group of dwarven miners from Mahakam posted a contract for a rock troll which had killed three of their group for a stew. After agreeing to a set price, Geralt set off to take care of the troll. But when he found its lair and killed the troll, he didn't see any signs that the troll had killed any dwarves."

"Really?" Brendan asked.

She nodded. "There were deer bones, goat horns, but nothing from any dwarves. When he returned to the dwarves to collect the reward, he confronted them about it, and they told him that the troll hadn't actually killed anyone. They just needed to get rid of it because the cave it lived in led to a great deposit of silver."

"Oooohhh," Brendan and I said, both of our voices saddened.

"What did he do?" I asked.

"He refused to take the coin," Ciri said. "And warned them that if they ever tried another stunt like that again, he'd shove a sword so far down their throats, they'd be shitting iron."

I nodded with a smile, "Yup that sounds like Geralt alright."

Ciri nodded. "Soon after that, a huge white wolf came to him, and laid down at his feet."

"I can see why he wouldn't go around telling that story to just anyone," Brendan said gravely. "He must have felt terrible."

"He did" Ciri said. "Anytime Geralt feels something so awful, he'll always make the excuse that the Witcher mutations strippped him of emotion, but that's all bollocks. Geralt feels things even more strongly than most folk, even if he doesn't look it"

I nodded slowly. "He's a good man."

"The best I've ever known," Ciri said quietly. Then she snickered. "It's funny isn't it?" she said, looking at the swallow on her shoulder, "how the creatures always find you, no matter where you are. Even if you're in the middle of the city, they could come bounding around a street corner if the moment hits you."

"I know, right?" I said, "The Doctors have been trying to work out that as well, but...well, I think it's a more mystical thing."

"So then, why not have sorcerers and sorceresses look into it?" Ciri asked.

"That's an idea, but...I'm not sure they'd be able to figure it out either," I said, caught between contradictory thoughts. "I think it's just sort of like a natural law of this world...but not one that can be explored by science, or at least not science as we know it. It just sort of….is, you know?"

"I think I know what you're saying," Ciri said, "Just like the music?"

I nodded. "Exactly. We know how the effect is triggered - any time I am overcome with extreme emotion, a song that I know matching the tone of the feeling will begin to play. We also know that, when I'm in a more...let's say idling state of mind, the music plays only on certain radio frequencies. But we still don't understand how it exists on its own, without any actual source. And maybe we never will," I said with a shrug.

"Or, at least, not before we find a way to get back home," Brendan added.

I nodded slowly. "Yeah…." I said absentmindedly.

"Do either of you hear anything now?" Ciri asked, looking out over the city.

I closed my eyes and listened, but heard nothing more than the dull drone of the city around us. "Nothing," I said.

"Me neither," Brendan said.

"Same," Ciri said, sitting back in her chair.

"I think I'm just too...contented. Too peaceful at the moment," I said, folding my hands and putting them on my belly.

We were all quiet for a good long while, allowing ourselves to really feel that contentedness. Then, Brendan asked, "Discover any new creatures lately?"

"Oh all the time," I said, waving my hand at him. "On average we discover at least 40 new species every week...most of those are ants or beetles or some other arthropod, but there's always something new. The highlight of this week was...I think I'd have to say the large entelodont, _Daeodon_."

"What are they?" Ciri asked.

"Basically, think a huge, galloping hog the size of a horse, though they're actually more closely related to hippos and whales."

"Sounds nasty," Ciri said with a smirk.

I shrugged. I never understood people's inclination to describe animals as nasty or gross. To me, animals are just...well, animals. They are what they are, they do what they do. I know it usually doesn't always align well with human laurels or aesthetics, but why would they be measured with such metrics? When you simply observe them on their own merits, all animals - of all kinds - are simply amazing.

Brendan asked, "Have they talked anymore about possibly bringing you out on field expeditions?"

I shook my head. "Doctor's orders, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Brendan said in a voice that apologized for asking a question he knew the answer to.

"They've still got me doing...well, flunkie work for lack of a better term," I said scornfully. "Cleaning off carcasses, filming dissections, picking up decapitated heads in the lobby," I said, looking at Ciri.

"Hey, don't look at me," Ciri said, "It's not my fault."

I sighed. "I know….it's just….I haven't been out in the jungle since that day I showed you the valley, remember? Just a few days after we all arrived?" They both nodded. "I've wanted so bad to get out there...to see all of the incredible creatures that live beyond the borders of the city. Watching videos just makes me antsy...I literally can't sit still when I watch a video of a herd of sauropods or an ebony blisterwing. I wa-I _need _to see them," I said with a dry voice as if desperately thirsty.

Neither Brendan nor Ciri said anything at first. Then Ciri said, "You know...you could sneak out…"

I slowly turned to look at her. "What?"

"You heard me," she said. "Sneak out. It's not as if the Doctors are hovering over you all the time. You could do it tomorrow even. I'll go with you!"

"I don't know…" I said. "I've never been much of a rule breaker."

"Oh come on Patrick," Ciri said, throwing her arms up. "Do you want to get out and see the world or not? If you really want it so bad, then just take it. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well, I could be eaten, eviscerated, bifurcated, decapitated, lacerated, stabbed, crushed, have my insides sucked out, beaten, or stepped on."

"Not if you're with me, you won't be," Ciri said with a cocky smile.

I put my hand on my chin as I turned over the prospect in my head. "Eh, what the hell," I finally said with a smile. "Let's do it!"

"Excellent!" Ciri said. "Meet me here at 10 O'clock tomorrow morning. We'll find a nice quiet corner with no one watching, and then I'll teleport us to the outskirts of the city."

"Wow!" I said, putting my hand on my forehead, "I can't believe I'm going to do this!"

"You'd better believe it" she said. "Want to come along, Brendan?"

"No thanks," Brendan said with a yawn. "It's getting late, and I think I'd rather sleep in tomorrow."

"Fair enough," I said. "And I suppose it is on that note that we head on off to bed,"

"Sounds good," Brendan said, stretching as he got up out of his chair.

"Very well then," Ciri said, "I'll see you gents tomorrow."

"Good night," Brendan said.

"Good night guys," I said.

We cleared away our trash, and headed off on our own ways. Brendan's room was one floor below me, while Ciri's was on the same floor, but on the other side of the palace. Pras followed me out, staying close to my side. The dark hall was illuminated by bioluminescent flowers growing along vines that snaked across the hallways. In no time at all, I was back in my bed, and Pras was curled up in his nest, his head hidden underneath one of his wings.


	2. Chapter 2 - Hope

**Chapter 2: Hope**

But Ciri and I never did go on that little excursion. Instead, I got an alarm call at around 8:30. When I was first setting up my room, the Doctor installed a wireless two-way intercom that would allow direct access in case of emergency. I had never used it once in nearly a year of living there, and when I first heard it, I floundered around my bed sheets looking for an alarm to turn off so I could get back to sleep. Pras had woken too, his feathers ruffling as he craned his neck from one side to another. When I finally realized where the sound was coming from, it took me another two minutes to remember how the damn thing worked. "Yes, hello?" I said, doing my best to hide the frustration in my voice.

"Patrick, this is the Doctor," the intercom said with a somewhat muffled version of Eleven's voice. "I need you to come down to the Council General Assembly Hall as soon as you can."

I instantly straightened up. "Is there something wrong?"

"Not exactly," Eleven said, though he sounded unsure of himself. "Just get here as soon as possible, you'll see when you get here."

"Uh...okay, I'll be there in, like, 20 minutes," I said. Eleven didn't answer.

I took a five minute shower, and changed into something mostly presentable, but there was no hiding the fact that I had essentially just rolled out of bed. I was still patting down my wet bed head as I made my way to the nearest short range teleport chamber. I was transported to one of the many teleport chambers that lined the walls just outside the General Assembly Hall, which were largely free of any other activity. Eleven was standing outside the door to the Hall, leaning against the door way.

"What's going on?" I asked as I strode over to where he was standing.

He paused before speaking, looking around as if to see who might be listening in on the conversation. "There's been a development...well, more of a potential development really….someone arrived at the Palace this morning, wanting to see you."

"Who was it?"

"I was hoping that you might be able to tell us," Eleven said. "When we go inside, I want you to tell me if you recognize who...or, if this applies, what...this person is."

I shrugged. "Shouldn't be a problem," I said, smiling confidently.

The corner of the Doctor's mouth twitched as if trying to form a returning smile, but it never truly came. "Alright," he said, putting his hand on the door handle, "Let's go in."

He pushed the door inwards, revealing the interior of the General Assembly Hall. It was another room that was designed to be cavernous by virtue of necessity, for giant creatures had to be able to fit inside. The walls stretched around like a titanic bowl, twice the size of a football stadium. Rows of seats lined the edges of the room, rising from the floor all the way to the ceiling. The Hall had never been filled to capacity; the extraneous space was built to accommodate all future species that might one day join. In the center was a round table which was used more often for matters concerning the city, where representatives from the citizen species would discuss matters.

That morning, only a few were present. Besides the Eleventh Doctor and me, there was Gandalf, standing by the edge of the table and holding his staff in both hands. On either side of one chair were two Wakandan guards standing at attention, vibranium spears clutched firmly in their right hands. In the chair between them was the person which the Doctor needed me to identify.

The problem was that - for the first time in nearly a year - I didn't know who the person in front of me was. She looked roughly my age, perhaps a little older, and was just a bit taller than me. She was fair skinned with light freckles around her nose and cheeks, and she had a pair of formidable lime-green mohawks running down the crown of her skull, which was otherwise devoid of hair. Her body was-well-toned, almost muscular in appearance. Perhaps the strangest thing about her were her clothes...that is, if she actually had any. At first, it looked as though she were wearing a vest and skirt made of some kind of metallic-looking fabric, with a skin-tight bodysuit underneath. But as my eyes followed the sleeves of the suit down toward her hands, there was no clear cut off. Instead, the purple color of the fabric faded slowly to the color of her skin. It was as if she wasn't wearing a bodysuit at all, but rather that her skin took on the appearance of one, starting at her wrists. A similar thing happened with her legs. The pant legs continued, and then melded completely into a pair of knee-high hot pink combat boots. Overall, i guess I could describe her appearance some kid of amalgamation of 90s retro futuristic punk...if that makes sense.

There was something just a bit...off about how all of her features were put together. Her skin was smooth, exceptionally so; like the airbrushed images in magazines and on billboards. It took me a while to realize this, but her nose was much smaller than average for a person, and her eyes were just a bit wider. In addition, I'm fairly sure that one of her eyes was larger than the other. If I hadn't already spent months around creatures that traversed all the way up and down the uncanny valley, it might have been a bit creepy.

Those wide, asymmetrical eyes followed me intently as I came into the room, fixed on my every movement. She made to get up, but the instant she moved, the Wakandan warriors pointed their spears directly at her neck in less than a second. "Please stay seated," the Doctor said politely, and she complied, never once taking her eyes off of me. "So," the Doctor said, turning to me, "Who is she?"

"I...I...don't know," I said, not altogether sure what was happening.

The Doctor took a deep breath in through the nose. "Very well then," he said, "let's all take a seat," and he gestured to the chairs around the table opposite the woman. I sat directly across from her, Gandalf sat at my left, and the Doctor at my right. The Wakandans remained in place.

Gandalf cleared his throat. "Would you be so kind as to introduce yourself to our young Master Murphy please?" he said to the woman.

Her gaze focused on me even more intensely than before. She looked me up and down before finally answering. "I have waited a year for this…" she said in one exhalation of breath. She leaned in toward the table, getting as close to me as she could while still in her seat. "I am Hope," she said at last, in a voice that was gentle and deep, but still very feminine.

"Okay…" I said nervously, "And...and you know me?" I asked.

She said nothing at first, still examining me with those unsettling eyes. "I am the one who created this world," she said at last, as if barely aware of what those words meant.

I was so taken aback by what she said that I didn't know how to respond. Looking back at her, slack jawed like a moron, I just said.."I-I..I-what?"

She stopped her examination of my body and looked me directly in the eyes. "The world - everything here - I created it all. Based on the template provided by your mind of course.," she said, smiling.

I furled my brow, utterly dumbfounded. I looked to the Doctor, but he said, "Don't look at us. We haven't got any answers."

So I turned back to the woman called Hope, who was still sitting and smiling pleasantly at me. "Okay...so...you're saying that you're the one who...translated my thoughts into this universe?" I said, waving my hand gently around.

She nodded.

"Okay...uh….," I didn't want to sound rude, but to be honest, I was a little...underwhelmed...I mean, I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting, but I know it wasn't some twenty something year old woman who looked like the bastard child of Tank Girl and Zenon Girl of the 21st Century.

As if reading my mind, she said, "Not exactly what you were expecting, was it?"

I smiled nervously and said, "Yeah, not...not exactly. What-I mean...you're not human I take it?"

She shook her head. "No. This form," she said, gesturing to her own body, "was made specifically to appeal to you." She was right about that - I have some unusual tastes. Gandalf cleared his throat again.

"Moving on," I said, trying to move past the subject of my tastes in women, "If you're not human, then what are you?"

"I am what's known as a 'creature of the abstract.'" she said softly, placing her hand on her chest. "You see, there is a whole ecosystem filled with creatures that don't exist physically: only mentally. There are oneriophages who feed on people's dreams as they exit the mind come the morning. Vicious phrenovores that devour people's whole minds, leaving them as empty husks. Harmless conceptophytes who synthesize brain waves into food, and give off so-called 'brain farts' as waste products. . We don't exist in the real world, only in the world of thought, and I can only materialize in the world of someone's mind. Creatures like me transmit ourselves in the real world via repeated memes - a random symbol carved into a bathroom door, a little tune you can't get out of your head, that sort of thing."

"Fascinating." the Doctor said, leaning in closer to her, propping up his inordinately large chin on his knuckles. "So what exactly then is your reason for manifesting Patrick's thoughts into physical reality?"

"That's easy enough to explain," she said. "I did it because I wanted to. Showing people the worlds inside their minds provides them with opportunities they could scarcely imagine. It's also fun for me to see what germinates from my little voodoo. It creates all sorts of exciting adventures and opportunities"

Gandalf said, "So your reasons then are purely out of generosity?"

"As much as most things can be," she said, bowing her head slightly in his direction. "But that's not to say that I don't benefit as well. These worlds are just as much fun for me to explore as they are for their owners to be fulfilled."

"So if I understand this correctly," the Doctor said, "Which I might not, of course, but if I do, then you do this to others as well?"

"That's right," she said. "As I mentioned before, I transmit myself in the physical world through a specific visual symbol."

"What symbol?" Gandalf asked.

She looked at the Doctor. "Do you have something I can write with?"

The Doctor reached into a pocket on the inside of his tweed jacket and pulled out a notepad and pen, which he slid over the table towards Hope. She took it and quickly jotted something down on the paper before showing it to us.

I recognized the symbol instantly: a stylized letter S formed from six vertical lines connected by several diagonal ones. "Oh wow," I said, looking at the symbol, "I haven't seen that since, like, 4th grade."

"Yes," she said with a single laugh, "I have quite a backlog. But yes, anyone who has seen this symbol before is available for me to enter their minds and construct a world from their various thoughts, feelings, and memories. It's taken me quite a while to get to Patrick."

"Now do you have any specific criteria for those you choose to enter?" the Doctor asked.

She shook her head. "No. I have no idea what a person's mind is like until after I've already created the world. The process is entirely random. I've created and visited hundreds of people's minds."

"Impressive," Gandalf said. "But this then leads to the supposition that this most incredible phenomenon reaches a conclusion. How does that come about?"

"I created this world, and I can just as easily return it to its original state," she said simply.

"But what causes you to end the physical nature of these worlds?" Gandalf replied. "This world has been in existence for nearly a year. How much longer can we expect things to remain as such?"

"As I mentioned," she said, "I created this world for Patrick. It is to provide him with the chance to see and do things he would otherwise have no chance of experiencing. When Patrick's happiness is satisfied, then I will return the world to the way that it was."

"What will happen to all of us then?" the Doctor asked.

"You will all return to whatever form of existence you had before you awoke here, with no memory that these events transpired."

I felt a sudden chill rush through my veins and my stomach sank as she said this. Not only had she brought up the first serious proposal to leave this world behind, but Hope also added another factor that made me reluctant to return home - that I would forget that all of these amazing experiences and adventures had ever happened. I kept quiet, but Hope looked at me again with those uncanny eyes of hers, and I couldn't escape the sense that she could read my mind like the words on a billboard.

The Doctor grimaced slightly. "To fulfill someone's wildest dreams, only to for them to forget it ever happened? It almost sounds cruel."

"Not at all," she said in response, "It's better to have dreams come true and then left behind than for them never to come true at all. And if the memory fades, what harm is done? What pain, or anger, or sadness is there?"

The Doctor looked at Gandalf, who was looking at him. Though neither is an exact telepath, they could read each other well enough to know that the same thought was lurking in their minds: ignorance of cruelty doesn't excuse it.

Hope could evidently tell what they were considering and she said, "It is an unfortunate necessity of the powers that create these worlds. The information gathered here can't be translated back into a mere physical existence because it wasn't there before. I still maintain that providing these experiences is a benefit to the person, even if they can't hold onto the memory of them."

"Tell us more about that process exactly," Gandalf said. "How does one turn a collection of thoughts into a physical universe?"

"The exact process is difficult to explain because of the discrepancies between your physical existence and my abstract one.. It's basically a mixture of quantum-entangled extraction coupled with a subatomic universal genesis matrix powered by psychic energy."

Gandalf looked to the Doctor, who shrugged and said, "It makes sense to me at least."

I thought to myself, _yes a mostly-meaningless string of unintelligible pseudoscientific techno-babble probably would make perfect sense to you._

"Perhaps a demonstration would help," she said, picking up the pen the Doctor had given her earlier. She held it up to us in her fingers so that we could all see it clearly. Not exactly sure what to expect next, we waited until the pen began to glow red. The light grew brighter and brighter, accompanied by a high-pitched buzzing sound. With a powerful clap, the blazing pen exploded into bolts of red lighting, striking the walls, the chairs, the tables - and all of us. But there was no sensation of electrocution: the bolts traveled right through us. All around the room, the red lightning faded away until it was gone, all within a matter of mere seconds.

Gandalf, the Doctor, the warriors, and I had all been shocked (pun intended, I guess) by the sudden explosive lightshow just for the sake of demonstration. I could see Gandalf's eyes clearly from behind his tangled thicket of beard. The Doctor was breathing heavily.

Gandalf was the first to speak. "What did you do?"

"I returned that pen back into its original form: a series of electrical impulses between neurons."

All was quiet for nearly a minute. I could hear the echoes of the Doctor's breath bouncing of the basalt walls around us. "I think this is something that will require further discussion among the Council," Gandalf said at last.

"Yeah," the Doctor said with a single nod of his head, "for the best."

"I understand," Hope said, bowing her head. "What would you like from me in the meantime?"

"For now," the Doctor said, "just...just sort of...stick around, here in the palace. We'd like to have you appear to our local governing bodies to demonstrate you powers before them as well. Until then, you can stay here...I'm sure there must be a free room still here."

"I know there's at least one on my floor," I said with a shrug. It was the first time I had spoken since sitting down.

"That's very kind, thank you," she said warmly, causing a different kind of warmth to brew inside of me.

Gandalf looked to the two Wakandans. "You are dismissed," he said with a nod, "Before you leave, I must impress upon you the utmost importance that you do not spread what you have learned in these halls. Careless word is the spark that lights the fire of chaos." They both nodded, crossing their arms over their chest in a Wakandan salute.

Getting up from her seat, Hope moved closer to me. "If you'll permit me," she said, "I'd like to take a moment to speak with Patrick alone. I'm sure he still has many questions."

The Doctor looked to Gandalf, who gripped his staff tightly. "Well...I suppose so," he said tentatively. "Though, I think the two of us would like to speak to Patrick first, if you don't mind."

"Of course not," she said, bowing her head low. "I'll be outside."

When the door to the Assembly Hall shut behind her with a resounding, heavy thud and snapping of the hatch, both Gandalf and the Doctor turned to me. Gandalf was the first to speak. "Take care around this woman, Patrick," he said in a low, foreboding voice. "Though I trust her words, we still do not know what she means by them precisely, and she wields tremendous power. I am not yet convinced that, despite her honesty, she presents no threat."

"I'm with Gandalf on this one, Patrick," the Doctor added. "We don't even have a good understanding of what she is, let alone who she is. And while I also agree with Gandalf that she's being genuine, there still feels like...something missing. A piece of the puzzle, something that we're just not getting."

"Do you think I shouldn't be alone with her?" I asked.

"I think you should be extremely cautious when she is near," Gandalf said. "Be wary of all that you think, say, and feel. Don't go where there aren't watchful eyes nearby, or listening ears ready to receive a call for help."

"Do you really think she's dangerous?" I asked.

"I do not think that," Gandalf said quickly, "which is exactly what makes me anxious of her. The fear is not that she is a danger, but that she could be, and that is what you must watch out for. Take nothing from this Hope for granted - consider her words, her actions; everything that she presents to you. And should you see or feel something from her that puts you at unease, then you must inform either the Doctor, or myself immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes Gandalf," I said.

He nodded at me. "Go now, Patrick. And heed our words,"

I left the General Assembly Hall, only to find that there was more than one attractive young woman standing outside the doors waiting for me. In addition to Hope, Ciri was standing with her arms folded, looking like she had been waiting for quite some time. "There you are," she said with a tone of exasperation, "what's going on?"

"I-eh….hm...not really sure where to begin," I said quietly, unable to make full contact with Ciri's vibrant green eyes.

"I went to find you in the lounge for the-...you know...anyway, I waited around for 20 minutes or so. I went to your room assuming you'd slept in, and I was planning on giving you a good throttling. But you weren't there. The place looked like you'd left in a hurry, and Pras was pacing around looking anxious. When he saw me, he kept reaching up and clawing at that device the Doctor put in your room, so I assumed the Doctor had called you down." She spoke quickly, and it was clear that she'd mentally gone over the series of events that led her to the Assembly Hall as she was waiting.

"Well, yeah, uh...yeah, that's pretty much what happened," I said with a shrug.

"So what did the Doctor want with you?" Ciri asked.

Before answering, I looked over at Hope, who was observing us closely. "Well,...basically, I...it has to do with my new friend here," I said, gesturing to Hope, who responded by smiling and nodding her head once.

Ciri examined the cyber-punk woman thoroughly, from the bottom of the boots that appeared to blend seamlessly into her skin, to the crests of the flamboyant green mohawks running down her head. "I see," Ciri said, not entirely sure what to make of the odd looking woman. "And what's your name?"

"I'm Hope," she said, "Hope Vernor. It is a pleasure to meet you," and she courtesy extended her right hand.

Ciri took it and shook, never once taking her eyes off of Hope's strangely-constructed face. "A pleasure," she said absentmindedly. "I'm Ciri."

"Hello Ciri," she said, and actually gave a small curtsy. "I can tell that you and Patrick are very close."

"We've been mates for about four years now," she said, glancing at me. "Patrick was one of the first people I met in this world. And what brings you to the palace?"

"Perhaps it'd be best if we continued this conversation in private," I said, motioning back to the inside of the Assembly Hall. "It's some very sensitive information."

"Alright," Ciri said, looking from Hope to me as if trying to figure out where the conversation was going, and whether it was some place good or bad. We went back into the Assembly Hall, and essentially went over all of the exact same points we had with Gandalf and the Doctor. As we brought the conversation to the same endpoint as before, Ciri put her hand on the side of her face and said, "Good gods...after four years...guess we finally figured out how it happened."

"I hope it helps to make things clearer," Hope said politely.

"Well, sort of," Ciri said slowly, "mostly, I mean...though there are still a few things I don't quite understand."

"Like what?" Hope asked.

"Well...how do I put this...there are some things about myself that nobody, not even Patrick can possibly know. I've even asked him just to double check. But if I'm a physical manifestation of his thoughts, then I- I mean, this version of myself, at least - shouldn't know those things. I mean, logically, it only follows that there can't be things here that Patrick doesn't know about, but there are. How does that work?"

"Ah, an excellent question!" Hope said with a wide smile, "You see, these worlds are a translation of a person's mind, but not a literal one. If that were the case, there'd be many things in it that were only half formed. LIke the millions of faces that appear in a crowd. It's not as if Patrick can visualize all of those faces clearly, right?"

"Right," Both Ciri and I said.

"The powers that generate these worlds operate through quantum entanglement - tying together both the external and internal variations of the same entity, and filling in the blanks accordingly."

"So does that mean," I began slowly, "that...well, one thing that I've always wondered about is…the dinosaurs that live in this world. Obviously, I've never seen a _T. rex _or a _Brontosaurus _or an _Epidexypteryx…_I always assumed that I wasn't looking at the real animals, only how my mind interpreted them, based only on a fragmentary understanding of the fossil record."

She shook her head. "Oh no, Patrick," she said, "those are the real animals themselves - what they really looked like, how they really behaved. Of course, you do have pre existing notions about what these animals are like, and those exist here too. But no, those are meant to be the actual creatures."

"Oh my god," I said, staring down at the table. "This is it...those are the actual, real dinosaurs from the fossil record…"

"It's just like I told you," Hope said, reaching across the table and putting her fingers on my chin, "I did this for you - to see and experience things you would never have the chance to in the real world." Her skin was warm, smooth, and soft, and her touch instantly filled me with a sense of ease and contentedness.

"What about the music?" Ciri asked. "How does that work?"

"I'm assuming you mean the music that can be heard when Patrick is experiencing a strong emotion? It's not all that complicated. Patrick has music that he enjoys listening to, as do we all. He associates those pieces of music with certain emotions, and even with certain sensations. When those emotions or sensations are triggered, the music plays. Sometimes you won't notice it because you'll be distracted by the very feeling that activates the music, and the two sort of blend right into one another."

"One thing that's always kind of given me a headache is….like, okay this world is made from my mind, right? But then….well, I have a brain...by which I mean, me, sitting right here in this room, I have a brain inside my skull...and everyone else here does too, so are those minds inside of minds? Is this, like, mind-ception?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean…" Hope said.

"Okay, so-" I began, trying to phrase my concern, "Everything here is made of thoughts….but the people here have thoughts of their own, right? LIke, Ciri has thoughts. But how can thoughts have thoughts?"

"I think you might be overthinking things," Hope said. "They're thoughts that have been turned into beings of their own. It's simple as that."

"Yeah,...it's just a show, I should really just relax," I said. Neither of the women laughed. "Oh, here's one thing I want to know," I said, suddenly remembering an important point of contention. "So we figured out pretty quickly that this world is basically...well, me, which in turn led to the question of what would happen to this world if I were to die?"

"You can't die here," she said simply

"Wha-really?"" I asked.

"Well-" she said, looking away for a second in thought,"I shouldn't say that. You can't be killed by anything in your mind, but you could be killed by something from outside."

"What does that mean?" I asked,

"Like, for example, remember those creatures I was telling you about earlier? The ones that devour people's minds?"

"Oooohhh, right, okay I see what you mean," I said with a nod. "Well, hopefully none of those show up."

Hope waved her hand. "I doubt it. Phrenovores specialize in smaller, weaker minds - usually younger ones - that they can destroy easily and eat quickly."

"Like most predators," I added.

"Precisely."

"What about me?" Ciri asked. "Am I immortal too?" It was clear that she was mostly joking.

Hope shook her head. "Any other living thing besides Patrick in this world can be destroyed just as easily as they could be wherever they came from. When - or if - Patrick decides to return to the real world, he'll forget that he ever knew about whatever it was that was destroyed . However, if it's only one thing, or something important or integral to him, then Patrick will most likely be able to reconstruct the memory from the holes it leaves behind,"

"Oh!" Ciri said, perking up with realization, "what about when you were glowing?"

"Glowing?" I asked, "What do- OH, yes, right! God, I'd almost forgotten..."

"What do you mean?" Hope asked.

"I was out with a bunch of the leaders from different species...as well as human leaders, whatever, anyway...we were standing at the top of a hill overlooking a valley filled with all kinds of creatures, and then, suddenly...I started to glow with this green light coming out all over my body."

"I see...and how were you feeling at the time?"

"Uh...alright, I guess. Maybe a little hungry, but-"

She cut me off . "No, no sweety, I mean emotionally, how were you feeling?"

"Oh," I said, sounding a little embarrassed, "Um...well...it's really hard to put into words...it was unlike anything I've ever felt before. Not only was it a sight more awe-inspiringly beautiful than anything I've ever imagined, but...it's as if I felt like myself...I mean, more like myself than ever, like something was speaking to the absolute true core of who I am as a person. Creatures are kinda my thing...not kinda my thing, they are my thing: my absolute biggest passion in life, and to stand before so many of them...well, like I said, I don't really know if I can put into words."

She was smiling. "Hmm, yes I think I know what happened. You had- for at least a fleeting moment - achieved true self actualization: the true essence of all that you are as a person. You see, here in these worlds you - the self - are divided into two pieces. There's you, the one sitting here with me in this room with Ciri. That's your sense of self, your conscious understanding of who you are. But, then there's the _fundamental _you: the parts of you that have been with you since birth, or else so attached to your being that they are completely inextricable. These parts are often times unconscious: unknown, unfelt save for rare, often brief moments."

"Really.." I said, leaning in close toward her, careful not to miss a word, "And where's that part?"

"Everywhere!" she said, gesturing toward the room around us. "It's your true self. Your real self. The self you cannot deny, and it is tied inseparably from all that is here. It's in every quark of every proton of every atom of every molecule of every piece of matter and all forms of energy here.

"Now, when you achieve a moment of self actualization, the two parts of yourself join into one. When that happens, you become mentally connected to everything in the universe. You can do anything."

I was silent for a while, mulling over exactly what that meant in my mind before deciding to ask for clarification "Anything?" I whispered. "Y-you're telling me that, at that moment, when I was glowing, I could have lifted a hundred tons with my bare hands, flown around the world in five seconds, and shot lasers out of my butthole?"

"Interesting choice of examples," she said with a giggle, "But yes. You could have lifted 1,000,000 tons, flown around 100 times in half a second, and shoot lasers out of every orifice of your body. All at once."

I fell back in my chair so hard that it rocked back on its back legs for an instant before crashing back onto the floor. "Oh my god...I...I was like a god!"

"Basically," she said nonchalantly.

"I have to do it again. How can I do it again?"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there Yaweh," she said, holding up her hands. "Self actualization is one of the rarest, most difficult emotional and mental states to achieve. Some people don't reach it until they're 50, others never reach it at all. And emotional states are fleeting, they never last. What happens when you've got that 1,000,000 tons over your head when it ends?"

"Well...presumably I would be squashed into a bloody stain made up of powdered bones and bits of pulped flesh," I said matter of factly.

"Vivid...but correct," she said. "Self actualization can't be forced. That's the trap that people trying to reach it always fall into. But if it's already happened once, then I think that's a good chance that it will happen again...and it was just a few days after you arrived?

"Yeah."

She nodded slowly, grinning. "That's impressive...how old are you?"

"25."

"Really? You must be very mature for your age. It takes a good amount of wisdom and self-understanding to achieve that status."

"I guess," I said, trying to conceal my pride with false modesty.

"But now, I must ask you a question, Patrick," Hope said. "How do you like it here?"

I laughed. "How do I like it here?" I blurted out, "How do I like in a place that's filled with the most incredible assemblage of living things from across all corners of time, space and imagination? How do I like it in a place where lasting peace, equality, and justice have been firmly established? How do I like it in a place with goddamn, motherfucking dinosaurs?! I….I do quite like it, yeah."

"Good," she said, laughing and smiling. "After all, that's the whole reason for doing this, so if you're not enjoying yourself here, then I must be doing something wrong."

"What about you?" I asked, "What do you think about this place?"

"It's fantastic!" she said. "There's so much to see and to do. Every day is an adventure, and I mean that literally. Your mind has organized things in a way I haven't seen in a very long time, combining elements that I very rarely ever see together."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for example, the way the ecosystem incorporates animals from different periods of time, different planets, different timelines, and even from total fantasy. It's not uncommon to see hints of that in other's minds, but to see it here - built up of thousands upon thousands of species - is just absolutely amazing!"

I couldn't help but grin stupidly at such praise. "Well..thank you. It's just sort of….who I am, I guess."

"Is there anything else either of you would like to know?" she asked.

I looked at Ciri, who looked at me as well. "Uh...I don't think so," I said slowly.

"I think I'm good for now," Ciri said, "If we think of anything else, we'll be sure to let you know."

"Very good," she said. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to see about getting that room you mentioned. I've been journeying for some time now, and could really use the rest."

"Of course," I said. "Just go down to the hospitality division. It's in the entrance hall, all run by dwarves and hobbits. Ask for Biffur, and tell him I sent you. He'll hook you up."

"Thank you," she said, bowing to both of us. "Until next time."


	3. Chapter 3 - The Emergency Council

**Chapter Three:**

Ciri and I found Brendan in the dining hall, quietly sipping some coffee. We dragged him back to my room, where we could be safe from eavesdropping: a risk that was exponentially greater in the palace given the excellent hearing of some creatures. I threw all of the dirty clothes in a corner, and sat down on the bed. Ciri sat at the desk across from the bed, and Brendan was content to sit on the floor. Pras came and sat at the foot of my bed, sitting straight up and proud. We filled Brendan in on all we had been told.

"Huh," he said, as we wrapped up our explanation. "Who would have thought."

"Who would have thought of anything, really," Ciri said. "I was starting to think this all happened on its own, like a natural disaster or something."

"So how are you feeling about all this?" Brendan asked me.

I didn't answer at first, though not because I didn't know how to feel. Rather, I was ashamed of how I was feeling, and didn't want to let my two best friends know, lest they think less of me. "I don't really know…" I finally said with a false shrug. "I mean...it's good to have some answers finally. I just...I don't know what's gonna happen next."

"And that scares you?" Ciri asked.

I nodded. "I...I don't like not knowing what's going to happen."

"So do most folk," Ciri said, leaning over with her elbow on her crossed knee.

"I'm sure whatever will happen, they'll involve your input," Brendan said. "It only seems fair."

"Yeah…" I said, my thoughts trailing off.

"You're not ready to leave, are you?" Ciri asked knowingly. I looked at her, seeing those keen, penetrating green eyes probing my every move. "It's not all that hard to figure out," she said. "What kind of person would be bent on leaving a world where their dreams come true?"

I sighed. "Hit the nail right on the head," I said. "That this place was created by a self-described creature of the abstract who looks like some retro-space age punk-rock chick because she wanted to help me out isn't that hard to accept. It makes about as much sense as any other potential explanation...er, which is to say, very little. There's even some kind of solace in understanding why this all happened in the first place, and that it wasn't entirely my fault. What makes it so hard to talk about is that Hope had brought forth the first serious proposal to return home...and I'm just not ready for that.".

Sensing my discomfort, Brendan said, "It's alright. Like Ciri said, I'm sure anyone would feel the same if they were in your position."

"But it's more than that," I said. I looked away, out of the window toward the world outside. "These people were brought to this place against their will. No matter how great the city is, nothing changes the fact that it's simply an extreme example of people making the best out of a bad situation: an especially delicious pitcher of lemonade made from some particularly sour lemons. Not to mention the potential for great danger that lurks outside the borders of the city. I know that a deliberation by the Council will end with them voting in favor of Hope returning everything back to normal...and I don't want that.

"I know I'm not exactly an unbiased source, but this world is better than the world I came from. Not perfect by any means, but a hell of a lot better than the United States as of mid 2018, not even halfway through what will go down as the absolute worst presidency in US history. So sue me if I'd rather not go back to a country torn apart by racism and other forms of bigotry, selfishness, lies, and a populace filled with people who are convinced they're doing good, when they couldn't be doing worse. I don't' want to go back to that; do you?" I pointed to Brendan, but went on before he could answer. "Who would in my place? Frankly, my world is better, if only because even the _semblance _of a peaceful, equal, just society not on the brink of climatic chaos is only possible in the world of someone's mind."

Neither Brendan nor Ciri was looking at me anymore. They were visibly shaken by what I'd said, and I didn't blame them. Once they'd identified my apprehensions, I just...couldn't stop. There was fear, and there was fury. I was getting defensive and they hadn't even pressed me on anything.

I sat back down and said in a quiet voice, "I'm sorry. I know that going home is the right thing, I promise, I do know that. It's just...it's just all happening very quickly." I looked down at the floor, running my hands through my hair.

Brendan nodded slowly. "It's difficult...and there's no telling how we might react if we were in the same situation. You'll always have us to support you. You know that, right?"

I nodded. "I do. I...there's just….just so many things I haven't seen yet. I don't want to to go, not now. There's still so much to see, and to do. I've been stuck in the city for the last four years, and they want to end it all now?"

"Well, no decision's been made yet," Brendan said. "There's still plenty of time to explore the world. And now that we know you can't die here, then the Doctor should have no problem with you leaving the city."

"That's true…" I said, stroking my chin. "We could still plan a trip out, if you guys wanted?"

"I'd be up for it," Ciri said smiling. "Though I can't do it tomorrow. I'm spending the day with Geralt and Yennefer."

"How about next weekend?" I asked. "Saturday work for you.?

"I can do that," she said.

"Sure," Brendan added.

I smiled at them both. At that moment, the wireless intercom began to buzz again. I answered it as quickly as possible, since the noise was especially bothersome to Pras who hissed at the device. "Yeah, hello?"

"Patrick, this is the Doctor," called Eleven's voice from the speaker.

"Okay, just so you know, I have Brendan and Ciri here as well," I warned him, in case any of the information was sensitive.

To my surprise, he said, "Oh good, Ciri needs to know this too. There will be a Special Council Meeting involving all the member species as well as all of the appointed human representatives. It will be in the General Assembly Hall tonight at 2000 hours. The meeting will be to discuss the next course of action regarding our presence in this world"

I swallowed, looking anxiously at the other two. "Uh...okay. Thanks for the heads up."

"Yes, thank you Doctor," Ciri said.

"No problem," the voice said. "In the meantime, remember - be extremely cautious when speaking about these matters to people outside the Council...not that I don't trust you, Brendan."

"No worries," Brendan said, waving his hand.

"I'll touch basis with you both later this week," The Doctor said. "Take care."

When the call ended, I looked anxiously over at Ciri and Brendan who could instantly tell what I was feeling. Ciri was the first to offer assurance. "It's not a decision," she said quickly. "There's no knowing what they may choose to-"

I interjected, "Oh come on Ciri. You know full well that they'll vote to return to their own worlds...and like I said, who could blame them?"

"That doesn't necessarily mean that we'll all be going back by lunchtime on Saturday," she said.

"Ciri's right," Brendan said, "Maybe there's some sort of compromise to be reached. After all, from what you guys said, it seems like Hope is the one who has the final say, and she says that she did this for you."

"That hardly seems fair," I said, "sounds almost like holding them hostage."

"But the fact is, it's true," Brendan said, "she does have the final say, and her whole reason for doing this was to make you happy."

"But isn't that kind of like chasing a windmill?" I asked.

"Like what?" Ciri asked.

"It's a reference to a story from our time," I added, "about a knight who charges to attack what he thinks are dragons, but are actually windmills. It's a shorthand for 'chasing a pointless goal.' Happiness is a fleeting sensation, like all emotions. It can't be sustained for very long, so it's not a rational goal."

"True," Brendan said, "But I still think that a compromise is possible. How about this - Hope agrees to return everything back to normal after a certain amount of time? Time enough to give you the chance to do the things you think are most important, would take the most advantage of the opportunities presented by this world?"

"Hmmm," I said, mulling over the idea. "Like a bucket list? That might work...assuming the other creatures and human leaders agree to it."

"I'll argue for it," Ciri said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I sighed, looking from her to Brendan. "You know, you guys are really great., you know that right?"

"Was there ever any doubt?" Ciri said.

Ciri and I decided to go shopping after our conversation with Brendan, partly to take my mind off of things, and partly because I still needed to get some new clothes. The need was all the greater since I wanted to look my best at the Emergency Council meeting that night. We went to a shop just a few blocks from the palace, run by Satyriacs. In addition to some more casual fare, Ciri also helped me to pick out a dark grey suit, white dress shirt, and matching trousers. I already had a tie picked out back in my room - one with dinosaurs on it. After all, though I wanted to look presentable, I nonetheless was presenting myself. We left after Ciri picked up the amber pendant she'd been eyeing for several weeks at that point: one with a tiny scorpion preserved within.

At 7 O'clock - one hour before the Council was to start - Ciri and I went down together. I was dressed in the suit I'd picked out that day, while Ciri was dressed in a dark black gown, with a gold tunic, bearing the black sun of Nilfgaard. Her ashen hair was tied in many braids that dangled by her shoulders, and she wore more makeup than usual. She'd have looked positively stunning if she didn't also look so miserable. It was no secret that she detested formal meetings of all kinds, a trait she'd inherited from Geralt.

We weren't the only ones who were early. Many creatures had already begun to gather in the assembly hall, which was already half full by the time Cir and I arrived. We passed by Caesar of the apes, who recognized the importance of the Council by donning a grey shawl over his shoulders - the only article of clothing he ever wore. I caught sight of Janax, the Silurian ambassador. As she took her seat, the light shining even more brilliantly off of her scaly forehead. I wondered for a moment if she had her scales polished for the occasion. Whether it was the extra skulls worn by the Yautja elder, Mak'ta, or the silken red robe of King Theoden of Rohan, all were making it very clear how serious they were treating the Council.

At the opposite end of the Assembly Hall, facing the stadium of seats, was a circular platform that could rise and fall. Half a ring of chairs were placed around the edge of the platform, and in front of them were a podium and lectern. This is where Ciri and I left each other, for she had to sit in an assigned seat amongst the other human leaders, while I had a place on the platform. My chair was at the very end of the ring, next to a seat that would eventually be filled by Hope. The other seats were taken by all 13 of the Doctor's various incarnations as well as Gandalf.

The minutes ticked by slowly, each one filled with tension. I had no desire to speak to anyone, even as casual conversation was taking place all throughout the Hall. It was only when Hope finally arrived that I felt the least bit relieved. She looked just as she had when I first saw her, taking her seat to my left. She smiled at me, and said, "Hello Patrick," in a calm, reassuring voice.

"Hello Hope," I said back to her. "How did you make out getting a room?"

"Very well, thanks," she replied, "I'll be in the same wing as you are, room B114."

"Oh nice," I said, nodding politely.

"I can tell you're nervous," she said bluntly, though still smiling. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Oh, no, it's alright, I just...well, I'm just not sure what's going to happen here is all," I said with a shrug.

"Well, what do you hope happens here?" Hope asked.

"I...well, I hadn't really hoped for anything.." I said quietly.

"But you must hope for something."

"I...I…" I said, wary of my outburst to Ciri and Brendan. I had been ashamed then, and didn't want to bring up those same feelings in front of so many others.

"You're not ready to go back, are you?" she asked, knowingly.

"I...no, no I'm not," I relented, lowering my voice to match hers.

"Well, if you're not ready to go back, then I won't return your mind to normal. It's that simple," she said with a smile.

"Is it?" I asked. "What if everyone here decides that they want to go home?"

"It's not their call," she said.

"Come on, it can't be that 's got to be something they can do to pressure you into of these civilizations are pretty powerful."

Before she could respond,a bell chimed from high overhead, followed by a voice that proclaimed. "Attention. The Council meeting is about to begin. Please take a comfortable position in your designated space." For most, that meant taking a seat, but to the flyers it meant perching overhead, and for the legless folk, it meant coiling their bodies on the floor with their heads raised to attention. The Twelfth Doctor stepped up on the podium and cleared his throat before speaking into the microphone.

"Welcome friends," he paused before going on. "You have been summoned to this Emergency Council Meeting to address a sudden and unexpected quandary regarding this world and our presence in it

"Four years ago, we all woke up in this place, inexplicably transplanted from across vast spans of time and space. We were scattered and divided. Frightened and confused. And yet we rose above our shared suspicions and banded together to form a unique collective, one founded on the principles of peace, justice, and equality for all beings. Though we have struggled in our efforts to achieve these ideals, we have nonetheless made extraordinary progress. All of this tireless work has been in the service of one primary goal - to provide a safe and productive environment in which we might discover how we came to be in this world, as well as a means of returning to our respective homes. And now, at last, our first major breakthrough has been made.

"I would now like to take this opportunity to introduce a newcomer to the palace. She first arrived here at 743 hours this morning, and proceed to share new information with Gandalf and my Eleventh self regarding the fundamental nature of this world, and how we came to be here. This information was questioned and examined thoroughly to test its validity. At this point, Gandalf and all of myselves are convinced that what she told us is correct. I would now like to give her the opportunity to introduce herself and explain to all of you what she shared with us."

Stepping down, he motioned for Hope come up to the microphone, even as a ripple of intrigued murmurs swept over the audience. She acquiesced, stepping up before all of the Council. She looked absolutely composed, totally undaunted by the prospect of presenting to an audience composed of everything from aliens, to talking chimps, to giant eagles.

"Greetings," she began. "I am Hope Vernor. As strange or unlikely as this may be to believe, I am the being who created this world and brought you all here." In the pause that followed her words, the soft murmur in the chamber grew into an anxious drone. Continuing, she spoke in a raised voice to overcome the rest of the Council. "As I said - I realize that this may seem strange, but it is truth.

"I understand that, prior to this council, the Doctors had put forth a theory regarding the world we all find ourselves in at the moment. This theory stated that this world and everything in it is a direct translation of the thoughts, feelings, memories, and experiences of a living mind, and that the living mind in question was that of this man: Patrick Murphy," she paused and gestured to me."I also understand that this theory has, understandably, been met with some contention from many within the Council. Allow me to end the dispute now. This world is indeed made of everything from within the mind of Patrick Murphy."

Again, the voices of the crowd rose, this time to a boisterous cacophony. But before the Council could be disrupted any further, a pale green light shone from within the shadow hanging over the audience. The light came from a the leaves of a small tree, whose bioluminescence was activated by tactile stimulation. Upon seeing the light,Twelve rushed up to the microphone and declared, "The Council recognizes King Elessar Telcontar of the United Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor."

I couldn't see him, but in my mind I saw the face of the king, though I had always known him as Aragorn, son of Arathorn, or else by other names such as Strider. He was tall and lean, with dark hair mixed with many strands of grey. Though his demeanor could often seem dark, he was very fair to look at, with keen, grey eyes that seemed to far more than what was in front of them.

The King spoke, with a voice that was at least partly infused with that of Viggo Mortensen. "Firstly, may I say Welcome to the Council, and to the City. I have long entertained the idea that this world is made of the thoughts of Master Murphy, for I know Gandalf and trust his judgement. As no other, more satisfactory explanation has yet been proposed, it has long seemed the wisest course. And if he does indeed believe that you, Hope, are responsible for all that is here, then that is good enough for me.

"Yet I also recognize the loftiness of such a claim, and that others within the Council may request or even demand further proofs. Is there any action you can take to demonstrate the truth of your claim?"

She nodded once in his direction. "Yes, your Highness. I possess the power to translate the bioelectrical activity within living brains into tangible reality, as well as the power to do the reverse. Thus, we have prepared a demonstration. I will deconstruct a willing volunteer back into their base neural components, thereby banishing them from this world, and back into whatever form of existence they had before they came here."

Twelve, who had remained at Hope's side, said, "I am the willing volunteer in question. So if no one else has anything to add, we would like to begin the demonstration to dispel all further doubts" When no one said anything, he took one step away from her and then nodded.

She reached out with one hand and placed it on his shoulder. If I hadn't already seen a minor example of this with the pen from earlier today, I might have assumed that nothing was happening. Indeed, there was no noticeable effect at all for a whole minute. But then I began to feel a rising warmth in the air around me. At first I assumed it was just a natural reaction to wearing the suit, but things kept getting warmer and warmer. The Doctor started to turn red, including his clothing. This ruddiness progressed from the look of a light fever to that of a chili pepper, at which point a light began to shine from the surface of the Doctor - his clothing, his skin, his hair. As the light grew in intensity, startling crackles and snaps began to ring out from the point of her touch all across the Hall. Finally, with a tremendous bang and a blinding flash, the Doctor was gone. In his place were great bolts of red lighting that shot upwards toward the ceiling, and then coursed down through the walls.

When there was no trace left of either the Doctor or the lightning, the Council erupted into confused, suspicious conversation. Hope turned back into the microphone and said, "Please. I am not finished."

The crowd quieted down again, and Hope stood facing them, rubbing her hands together. As the friction grew between her palms, they too began to grow hot and red. Sparks began to flicker in her fingers. They grew until they were conducted by all that was close around her. At last, she threw up her hands, unleashing the scarlet bolts. They flashed and condensed, joining together until they made the shape of a man. There was nothing to the shape but a red light so bright that it was bordering on white. After a few more seconds, it faded, and there was the Doctor, standing before us as if he had never left. He stumbled slightly, and a sudden expression of distress and pain flashed on his face before he looked around, clearly recognizing where he was.

The crowd was silent. Twelve stepped to the microphone and said. "Hello again." A few of the Council laughed. "I can confirm that I was returned to the last place I remember being - namely, inside the TARDIS...the engines calling...the pangs of regeneration firing within every cell of my body. Let there be no more doubt that Hope Vernor is the reason this world exists… unless of course anyone else would like to volunteer to have the procedure done on them..." The crowd remained silent.

Another one of the small trees glowed in the dark of the audience. The Doctor said, "The Council recognizes King T'Challa of Wakanda."

"Ms. Vernor...I don't mean to be insulting, but...I am doubtful that you're simply human. What are you?" he asked, as if it was just one of many questions running through his mind.

The Doctor stepped aside so Hope could answer. Far from insulted, she actually smiled toward him "Your doubt is well placed, Your Highness. I am indeed not human. I am what is known as a creature of the abstract. Unbeknownst to all of you here, there is an entire world that coexists with you, no matter where you come from; a world of thought.

"For as long as there have been thinking beings, the world of thought has existed. Whether they were the simple, instinctual impulses of the first primitive nervous systems, to the complex minds of so-called higher beings, creatures like me have been. We eat. We sleep. We evolve. We die. And as the tree of life has grown to encompass a diversity of living creatures beyond counting, so too has the world of thought bred an immense array of living beings..

"Creatures such as myself do not have a physical form. Indeed, we have no form at all, save for moments like this, when a person's mind is made solid and tangible. I took this particular form for Patrick's sake-" I prayed she wouldn't say anything else, "-but do not be fooled. I am not human."

The murmurs of the crowd were mingled curiosity and uncertainty. Another tree appeared. The Doctor said, "The Council recognizes Chief Benadu of the Wing-Bow Clan."

The Na'vi Chieftain spoke. "Why did you do this?"

She paused before answering. "Of all the things I've said and shown, this may very well be the hardest to believe. But I did this for Patrick," she said, gesturing to me again. Even though I couldn't see them, I suddenly felt all of the eyes - and other sense organs - in the room turned to me. I was filled with the sudden urge to disappear into a deep cave, or under a rock. "People go their whole lives yearning for impossible things: sights and experiences beyond anything they could ever hope for. I go from person to person, bringing to life all that's inside their minds so that they can experience these things for themselves."

Another tree. "The Council recognizes Odin, King of Asgard."

"That's a very generous sentiment - almost noble. But what do you gain from this endeavor? It looked to me at least that the power required to translate a thought into a physical being was not insubstantial. If so, then the benefit to you must be equally substantive."

"I would agree with that," she said, "though the necessary power isn't quite as great as it appears. Nonetheless, I understand the concern. Of course, this world becomes real for me as well, so I too have the chance to partake in impossible delights and adventures. But in truth, the real benefit is in seeing the faces of those whose minds I realize. I don't know if I can truly make you understand the joy it brings me to make their wishes come true. To see a person who has - since before they can remember - loved dinosaurs and other prehistoric creatures actually be able to see them come to life with their own eyes. The easiest way I can put it is to think of me like something of a fairy godmother. Generosity for generosity's sake."

"The Council Recognizes Princess Diana of Themyscira."

Wonder Woman said, "Even if we were to assume your intentions are as pure as you say they are, this doesn't change the fact that countless beings were ripped from their homes, against their will, deposited into a strange and dangerous place. Whatever your reasons, you had no right to do so" Despite the sternness of her words, her voice was calm. "Patrick has now had four years to indulge in the opportunities presented by this world. It is only fair that you now return his mind to its original state, and send everyone here home."

There were many calls of agreement from throughout the audience, but Hope held up her hand for silence. "I understand that many of you feel this way. But as I stated before: I did this for Patrick. Therefore, the decision of whether or not to undo this world lies with him."

"The Council recognizes King Theoden of Rohan."

"If the matter truly lies with the boy, then let him speak," Theoden said.

Both Hope and Twelve stepped away from the microphone, looking at me. I looked around, seeing the eyes of Gandalf and the other twelve Doctors were also on me, and it was easy to imagine that the attention of all creatures in the Hall was laying on me. Twelve nodded once to me, motioning to the microphone.

Barely even conscious of what I was doing, I slowly stood up from my seat and shuffled over to the microphone. As I was getting ready to speak, there was a stifling silence hanging in the air that was practically crushing me. I had almost forgotten what Theoden had actually asked at first.

Finally, taking in a deep breath, I began to speak. "Well, I, uh...obviously, I...hadn't intended for any of this. And if it really is up to me, then of course I would request that everything be returned to…"

"The Council Recognizes Crilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Queen of Cintra, Heiress to Innis Ard Skellig and Innis Ann Skellig. Princess of Brugge, Duchess of Sodden, Suzerain of Attre and Abb Yarra, and Empress of Nilfgaard."

My heart suddenly fluttered at the sound of Ciri's title. She said, "I for one don't believe that Patrick has been truly satisfied with his time here. He's been stuck in the city for the last four years, under orders from the Doctor. He's barely had the chance to explore what's really out there. Even those that have been able to explore have barely begun to find out what else is here."

"The Council Recognizes Ambassador Janax of the United Silurian Alliance."

"I can't help but notice a tone of familiarity in your words, Empress Cirilla," she said in an accusatory voice. "I certainly hope that you haven't forgotten your responsibilities to your people, and to this Council."

"The Council Recognizes Cir-"

Ciri didn't let him finish. "I know my duties," she said aggressively. "I'm simply stating the facts. I know for a fact that Patrick still has a desire to stay in this world, and any one of us would feel the same if we were in his position. He's just too nervous to say so, being put on the spot like this. If it's a matter of whether Patrick is ready to leave this world, then I'm just pointing out that he isn't."

Janax didn't wait for proper recognition to answer Ciri. "I believe Patrick is more than capable of speaking for himself. If he is genuinely not ready to return he should say so."

All attention turned to me again, with even more pressure than before. Before I could say anything, Gandalf stood up from his seat. "Patrick," he said slowly, "whatever you truly feel on the matter, you must be honest with us. Lies only add shame on top of all else."

I swallowed, and then nodded. "Taking the question by itself - separate from its relevance to our returning home - then I would agree with...Empress Cirila " I had to stop myself from calling her Ciri, "and I would say that there are still things in this world that I have yet to see and to do that I wouldn't be able to do if I were to return home."

At that moment, a loud thud rang through the Hall. Without waiting to be recognized, Mahk'ta, the Yautja Elder, called out, "This is nonsense!" in a voice that growled ferociously. "What does it matter if the boy is satisfied or not?! How do the fancies of one measure against the needs of a hundred peoples?" There were many murmurs of agreement.

Hope stepped back up to the microphone. "I care if Patrick is satisfied or not. And since I'm the only one with the power to undo this world, then that means you will care too, if you ever want to see your home again."

Mahk'ta roared with the signature throaty snarl of her people. "My people have suffered enough under this so-called alliance. First, our basic religious rights are compromised, and now we are being held hostage! If our fate is tied to the fancies of one boy, then we will attend to our own concerns." When she finished, she was joined by many calls of agreement, along with some applause.

Gandalf stood up tall, and spoke, not needing the microphone to amplify his voice. "Calm yourselves!" he cried, "Nothing has been decided. Not all as yet been spoken. Such actions, bold and rash, are best stayed lest they lay ruin upon you and your people."

The crowd grew silent again, and there was a pause before the next Council member spoke up. Twelve said, "The Council Recognizes Erul, Chancellor of the United Herds of Laramidia."

This was the first Council member I could actually see as they answered, for she was one of the Brontosapiens - a long-necked dinosaur over 85 feet long from the tip of her whip like tail to the end of her snout, which was adorned with an inflatable resonating chambers that could produce eerie, haunting calls. Her voice was so deep, I could feel it pass through my body like a ghost. "We just witnessed Ms. Hope return the Doctor to where he came from, while keeping the rest of this world as it is. Couldn't she simply use the same power to return all of those who wish home, leaving Patrick here to enjoy the world as he sees fit?"

Hope said, "It's not that simple. Returning one person is easy enough. Two is no problem, neither is ten. But sending all of you and your peoples home would disrupt the fabric of this world, causing it to rapidly deteriorate...and believe me when I say, you don't want that to happen. If it does, then all living things in this world would be lost forever in an endless void beyond all knowledge, save for an eternal cold that wraps around the mind and shreds it to pieces."

"So it will be all or nothing," the Doctor said. Another pause. Then the Doctor said, "The Council Recognizes Empress Xyrala of the Planet Mars."

"Nonetheless, Mahk'ta is right," she said. "It is unfair that this decision, which affects all of us, rests solely in the hands of two. We have the right to a say in this ruling."

I took the initiative for the first time since the meeting began, stepping up to the microphone and saying, "I agree with you, Empress," and then I turned to look at Hope, "If I knew that all of these people were stuck here against their will, I don't think I'd ever be able to truly enjoy myself here. I also recognize the vagaries of setting things like happiness or satisfaction as the end goals. Such things can't really be quantified in any meaningful way.

"So I propose a compromise. I will put together a list of things that I would like to do while I have the opportunity. The Council would then examine the list and determine a set amount of time with which to complete it. Once that time is expired, then Hope will return my mind to normal, and send all of you home, regardless of whether or not I have been able to accomplish everything on the list."

The Doctors, Gandalf, and Hope all looked at me with varying levels of surprise. Meanwhile, the leaders within the chamber began to exchange quietly with each other. I was hopeful that they were at least considering the proposal instead of rejecting it outright. I think part of the reason for that was because I was the one who suggested it. It helped to show them that I really was concerned with their desire to return home.

It had been a while, and still no one had said anything. The Doctor came over to the microphone and said, "If there are no objections, then let's take a vote. All those in favor allowing Patrick to draft a list of objectives to be reviewed by the Council, show your trees.' All around the Assembly Hall, pale green trees began to glow, looking like dim stars on a clear night. Not every tree was visible, but there was a clear majority. "Very well," the Doctor said, "the motion passes, 148 in favor, 64 opposed." He put his hand on a black stone in the corner of the lectern, and above us a similar stone of much greater size gave a small burst of red light with a faint boom before fading back out of view.

Without waiting to be recognized, Mahk'ta spoke up. "I will wait no longer than a week for this list," she growled.

"Agreed," I answered quickly, and she said no more.

"Alright then," the Doctor said. "The Council will reconvene at 2000 hours next Friday, at which point Patrick will submit his list for review. I hereby conclude this meeting of the Universal Council of Intelligence. Go in peace and good health."

I closed my eyes as I gave a huge sigh, slumping down into my chair. The Doctor pressed a button, and the platform began to lower once more. Around us, the Council members were stirring from their spots as they prepared to leave. Gandalf came up to me and placed his hand gently on my shoulder. "Well done, my friend," he said, a smile under his grey beard. "A clear mind in troubled company is a valuable gift."

"Thanks Gandalf," I said with a small smile. "I was a little worried there for a second."

"Eh, that's to be expected," Twelve said with a wave of his hand. "Consider yourself lucky. Usually getting this lot to agree on anything is a nightmare. I still can't believe how long it took us to pass that resolution on the Northern border. Zygons are still resentful of it."

"I'm just glad that we worked out something for you," Hope said.

When the platform reached the floor, I found Ciri waiting there, her hands on her hips. "Nice job," she said, coming forward and giving me a brief hug. "Looks like we'll still have some time after all."

Hope looked at her and said, "Hello again, Ciri. Thank you for standing up for Patrick back there."

"Think nothing of it," Ciri said. "I've gotten kinda used to the guy. It'd be a shame to give him up now," and she winked at me.

I said, "Well, we know that we've got at least a week left. Do you still want to do that trip out?"

"What trip?" Hope asked.

"Oh Ciri and I were thinking of taking a trip out into the jungle next weekend, just to do some sight seeing. I take it that's okay, Doctor?"

"Don't look at me," the Doctor said, "She's the expert. And if she says that you can't be killed, then I don't see any reason why not." He smiled as he said, "I think you've earned it."

I was too modest to even thank him, so I just bowed my head. "What do you say Hope? Want to come along?"

"Oh, no thank you," she said. "I spent four years wandering around the jungle, searching for you. Now that I've finally found you, I'm ready to relax at last."

"Suit yourself," I said with a shrug.

"Four years?" the Doctor asked, "Really?"

"Yes," Hope said.

"Huh...you're either very lucky...or very hardy."

"Hardy," she said. "Like Patrick, I can't be killed here. It's because I'm an outside agent, so to speak. Like a square peg pushing itself against the edges of a round hole."

"Well," the Doctor said, "that's handy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to retro-fitting the TARDIS' engines to navigate the temporal-spatial causation matrix of this universe."

"Yeah, have fun with that," I said, not even bothering to try and understand him. Turning back to Ciri and Hope I said, "Well, I'm pretty beat, think I'll turn in."

"Alright," Ciri said, "I didn't get a chance to eat before the Council, so I'm going to get something to eat in the dining hall. The hobbits usually have a few scones or cakes or something lying about for a late snack."

"Okay then. I'll see ya around," I said, waving her off.

"Goodnight," she said.

I turned to Hope and said, "What about you?"

"I'm also quite tired," she said, "So I'll be heading to bed as well. Would you like to walk there together?"

"Sure. Your room's in the same wing as mine, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, I requested that one specifically."

After going through the first of the short-range teleport chambers, we walked down a hall lit by the pale blue light of pandora's bioluminescent flowers lining the black walls like floral light bulbs. No other creatures were in the hall as we walked.

"I can tell that that was an exhausting ordeal for you," she said gently.

"Yeah," I said, "but what are you gonna do?"

"You know Patrick, you shouldn't be afraid to speak up for yourself," she said. "This is your mind. Your world. You can't be afraid to let others know how you really feel, and what you really think."

"Well, you know…"I said, trailing off before starting another thought, "I mean, they're here too. They do have a say in these things."

"But you can't be ruled by what they want," she said. "It is very dangerous to surrender the fate of your mind to the whims of others."

"Well, I mean...I wouldn't say that I've 'surrendered the fate of my mind' to them. I just think they deserve to have their say in these matters."

"You were very quick to deny yourself to appease the Council," she said warningly.

"Well, yeah, okay, I admit I backtracked on that one...but hey, it was a lot of pressure, I think I can be forgiven."

"You don't need my forgiveness," she said, "because I'm not the one you put down. You must treat yourself with greater care and resolve."

"Well...you know, maybe, I guess," I said quietly, "but it can be intimidating standing in front of all those creatures."

"What do you have to fear from them?" she asked.

"I mean, I don't know about you, but I'm not in any hurry to get on the bad side of a yautja or an Ice Warrior," I said.

"But you're immortal here," she said. "It's not like they can do harm to you."

"It's not just physical harm I'm worried about," I said. "I had talked about this with Brendan and Ciri before the Council, and...I kind of lost it. I got angry and defensive about having to give up the world so suddenly. I didn't want to do that again."

"Why not?"

I looked at her confused. "Why not? Because it would make me look like a selfish prick!"

"But it's how you feel, isn't it?" she pressed.

"I...I…" I stuttered, usure of where she was taking this conversation. "I mean, yes...I'm not ready to go back yet."

"Then wouldn't saying anything else be dishonest?" she asked.

That's when I stopped and looked at her carefully. "Okay, what exactly are you trying to say to me?"

She looked at me just as intently and said, "I just want to understand you more, Patrick. The better I understand you, the better I can do to ensure your fulfillment here."

"And what exactly are you trying to figure out?" I asked her. Before she could answer, I noticed something peculiar. She was probing into some very personal feelings, feelings that I would otherwise be very reluctant to discuss with anyone, let alone someone I'd only just met. And yet, I felt surprisingly comfortable. Looking into those uncanny eyes, I was completely at ease, somehow assured that anything I told her was in total confidence, and that I would suffer no judgement from her. And though her voice was soft to the ears, my mind sensed a kind of strength beneath the tenderness.

"I want to know what you were afraid of," she said simply. "You weren't afraid of harm, you knew none would befall you,even if it could. So what were you truly frightened of?"

"I.." I stopped, suddenly realizing I didn't know myself. I had to think before I could find an answer. "When I had that outburst in front of Brendan and Ciri, I was afraid of what they might think of me. I care about them a lot...friends are very precious to me. Back home I didn't have many of them, and I so rarely got to see any of them. I would never do anything that I thought might destroy a friendship…"

"I think I see," she said slowly. "You're afraid of what others would think of you."

"I guess so," I said.

"And you're afraid of what others think of you because you're afraid that people would think less of you, and that they would abandon you."

I didn't say anything.

"Oh Patrick," she said, reaching out and placing a hand on my shoulder. "You really needn't worry about such things. If your friends truly are your friends, they'll accept you as you are, no matter what imperfections you may have."

Her words had an immediate effect, one much stronger than one might expect from such basic sentiments. Indeed, I'd heard them spoken before many times; from friends, family...therapists. But coming from Hope, they had much more meaning. I put my hand on hers, and said, "Thank you."

"Of course," she said. "This is why I'm here: for you."

We hopped into the next short range teleport, and were soon in the hallway which led to our rooms. However, they were in opposite directions, so we parted ways, bidding each other goodnight.


	4. Chapter 4 - Dark Portents

**Chapter Four: Dark Portents**

The week passed with is usual mundane impossibilities. I used my free time to compile the list. Many of the things on it were very similar, and there's really no point in giving the whole thing here. While making it, I realised that - for practical reasons - I couldn't include anything that required the consent of any other intelligent agent. For example, I originally had 'dinner date with Karen Gillan' on it, but completing that would require something from Gillan. If she didn't want to have dinner with me, then she couldn't be forced, rendering that item impossible to complete. Most of the items involved seeing certain species or places.

I submitted it to the Doctors and Gandalf, and they took it to the Council. I didn't sit in on that meeting because I wanted to reaffirm to the Council members that the decision was in their hands, and I would respect it. After about 2 hours of deliberation, Gandalf and the Doctors returned with the final verdict. opi8

7 months.

And so it was. I had 7 months to do everything I put down to do, and I agreed that it was a fair amount. Luckily for me, one of the items on the top of the list was to explore the jungle, and that was already set to take place in the proceeding morning.

That first foray into the jungle...I'm not sure any single moment in that place was quite as magical. There were Ciri and Brendan: my closest friends of all, who had both stood by me even when I wouldn't stand by myself. Before us, on the very borders of the city - a wall of trees standing guard. To many, it might have been an uneasy sight; the tall, imposing trunks stretching hundreds of feet into the air, surrounded by dense layers of twisting green. Even from without, the ensemble choir of the forest was bursting with all kinds of life, singing in voices that somehow managed to be as inviting as they were foreboding.

When we crossed the threshold beneath the branches of the upper story, we had stepped into another world. With those single steps, we had left the security and order of the city behind, as if it were already miles away. The jungle held the promise of both great danger and great beauty, each one inextricably tied to the other.

I could never have predicted the amazing things we saw. Overhead, the sun was blotted out by twirling murmurations of passenger pigeons, flocking in their millions. Groves of helicoridans receded like terrestrial anemones, their movements sending numerous fan lizards shooting upwards. The six-legged lacertilian aliens unfurled membranous fans that glowed with brilliant neon colors in the dim light, spinning like helicopters. The afternoon saw an attack by some large gorgonopsid: either _Rugidgea _or _Inostrancevia _based on the size. Ciri was able to drive the vicious proto-mammal away with a little sword play. The day ended as a pair of suns began to dip tentatively into the Western horizon, bathing the Jungle in burnt orange light. From some place far ahead, we heard the haunting calls of a bladderhorn declaring its territory: an otherworldly bugle that changed keys and played notes in ways never heard by human ears.

The passing weeks saw more journeys into the Jungle. Sometimes I was with Ciri. Sometimes I was with Brendan. In most cases, I was with both. Each trip brought with it harrowing adventures and enchanting sights that couldn't be described as anything less than sublime. This was the way it was until the end of the first month after the Council reached its decision, and a good number of the items on the list had been checked off: I had seen a confrontation between a _Tyrannosaurus _and _Triceratops_, the Permian sphenacodont, _Dimetrodon, _and a nesting oviraptorosaur perched faithfully on top of is brood . Then came the first expedition of the second month.

Ciri, Brendan, and I all had breakfast together in the Dining Hall on the first floor before packing a few supplies which Ciri kept in a bag hoisted over her shoulder, and making for the stables located outside the palace on the South East side. That's where Ciri kept her horse, Kelpie: a young, powerful mare with a shimmering black coat that could gallop like a demon. She took Brendan with her on Kelpie, while I chose to ride Pras. Ciri's swallow, Zirael, was perched on her shoulder. We had no map, and no planned destination. The goal was simply to ride out and see what we might find.

I didn't use a saddle when riding Pras, nor did I use stirrups, reins or any other accessories. He always knew what I wanted or needed him to do, and his soft feathers were enough of a cushion to keep my buttocks from getting too sore (to a point, at least). So when it was time to mount up, he strode over beside me and sat down, allowing me to swing my leg over his back. My legs hung over his sides, behind his wings. By clutching my legs close to his side with both wings folded, he was able to keep me in place and prevent me from flying off.

Kelpie trotted beside us, throwing back her mane and snorting as if to show off to the _Dakotaraptor_, who reacted by scratching the dirt at his feet with his claws. Gripping the reins in both hands, Ciri said, "What do you say? Head Southeast from here?"

"By your leave, Princess," I said.

Giving a sly smirk, Ciri kicked and cried out, "Hyaa!" sending Kelpie bursting forth from a standing start into a full-fledged gallop, following a small dirt road. Brendan wrapped his arms around Ciri's waist to avoid being tossed off. The instant the desire to catch up to Ciri entered my mind, Pras bounded forward with one foot, tearing down the road at a swift pace. He held his head back in an S curve hidden beneath the layers of feathers covering his body, wings folded tight against his sides, and tail held out stiffy backwards for balance. He matched Kelpie step for step as he sped down past the village where the hobbits lived, their houses dug into holes beneath the roots of the palace and the tree. A few of the hobbits glanced at us as we passed them by, including one Samwise Gamgee who waved at us while tending to a bed of forget-me-nots.

The road wound under the shadow of the tree, past the hobbit holes, pastures and fields, by pens filled with ponies spooked by the twin flashes of black that raced down the path, only to disappear not a moment later. The quant settlement was located on the opposite side of the tree from the overwhelming metropolis of the city, protecting the hobbits from the noise and frenzy of the urban landscape. After a few minutes, we came to a river that marked the borders of the village, beyond which was the treeline of the great jungle, stretching across the land for miles on end. Without flinching, Kelpie and Pras crossed the stone bridge, carrying us under the darkness of the forest.

Over the pounding feet of our nimble steeds, the jungle was just as alive as it had been on that day when I first awoke here; a pathetic sack of crap completely at the mercy of a ravenous, primeval wood. Effervescent scents drifted from the rainbow of wildflowers blooming at every turn, and from the forest floor carpeted with layer after layer of dead leaves, moss, lichen, and mushrooms. The great symphony of life carried through the criss-crossing branches of the canopy, and between the fat trunks sprouting up from the earth; a veritable rhapsody of birds, frogs, insects, and other creatures untold. The agile creatures sweeping us through the forest easily leaped over fallen trunks, darted through narrow gaps in the trees, and ducked beneath low-lying limbs. They seemed to be in some kind of undefined competition, with Kelpie clearly being the agitator. She'd rush to Pras' side and toss her head toward him, whinnying loudly. He'd respond by baring his teeth at her with a snarling hiss, and then speeding up away from her.

"Ciri, tell that horse's ass to leave Pras alone," I called out playfully.

"What's the matter, can't the big bad dinosaur take a little fun?" She said, leading kelpie through a grove of helicordians, which all recoiled as they sensed the approaching feet. Luckily there were no future predators hiding in them this time.

It took me a while to notice. I was filled with the excitement of being out in the wild again; in the midst of an uncountable number of amazing creatures, so much so that I missed the rising of the drums. But there was music playing, just as there had been when all the leaders and I had found those sweeping plains. Excited drums boomed from all around, accompanied by a lone wooden flute whistling a tune that darted up and down the musical scale like a small bird through the treetops.

Within the shelter of the trees, there was no shortage of strange and spectacular creatures. At one point, we came across a grove of flowers with wide, crimson petals. When an orange butterfly landed on one of them, the petals flashed, and a wide mouth lined with sharp teeth snatched the insect in a single motion.

"Oh fuck!" Ciri called out, pulling on the reins to bring Kelpie to a stop.

When Pras stopped beside her, I looked more closely at these flowers, only to discover that they weren't flowers at all. I laughed. "Those aren't flowers - they're flooers!"

"What?" Brendan asked.

"Flightless descendents of leaf-nosed bats from 50 million years in the future. Their ears and noses mimic the shapes and colors of certain flowers, which attract insects. When the insects get too close, the flooers snap them up."

"Wait, those are their faces?" Ciri said, pointing to the grotesquely enlarged noses and ears of the flooers. "Yikes...kind of reminds me of a katakan."

"Only smaller...and a lot more agreeable," Brendan added.

"Wait, what's that?!" I asked, pointing to a spot in the jungle several hundred feet away. A dark grey blur had bounded through the underbrush, only to vanish from view less than a second later. Pras raced after it in pursuit, as if sensing my desire to know what it was.

"Hey, wait up!" Ciri called as she flicked the reins, driving Kelpie to catch up.

Pras made it to where I had seen the creature just a few seconds earlier, sniffing the ground and the foliage that had streaked its body as it passed through. Catching the scent almost instantly, he dashed along the trail it had left behind. Ciri and Brendan weren't far behind, with almost no notion of where they were going, let alone why. After several minutes of the chase, Pras came to a sudden stop, though there was no sign of the mystery creature anywhere.

Kelpie came trotting up to us after another minute or so. "What, did you see something?" Ciri asked.

"I did...but I don't know what…" I said.

"Well, is it here?" Ciri asked, looking around.

I was about to say 'I don't know' when Pras stepped forward slowly and so quietly that I could barely hear the soft crumple of dead leaves under his foot. He lowered his head, sinking deeper into the bush, forcing me to do the same to protect my face from being scratched by stray twigs. It was clear that Pras had assumed a prowling posture, though what he was stalking, I couldn't tell. Finally, as I parted the wide leaves of an elephant magnolia, I heard the soft trickle of a stream or small river flowing through the bottom of a slight ditch As the water came into view, I saw it. It was peacefully drinking from the river, totally unaware that we were watching it. This explained Pras' sudden decision to employ stealth.

But Kelpie, who wasn't nearly as stealthy a creature as a _Dakotaraptor_, came strolling through the undergrowth, snorting and grunting, shaking her head and throwing her mane all about. It was more than enough to get the creature's attention as it craned its head upwards to look directly at us.

"What...is that?" Ciri whispered from just behind me.

The question was more than warranted given the creature's bizarre anatomy. Its head was shaped like a pair of vertical pincers with two wide black eyes staring unblinkingly up at us. At the base of its skull there was a pink tentacle-like organ covered in thin hairs and spherical pustules. Following its long neck down to its chest, there was an elongate, phallic appendage snaking its way from between the creature's front legs to the water. Overall, the creature was dull grey, and carried itself on four powerful legs. It was about three feet long, and instead of a tail, it had long, stiff, bristly hairs growing out of its rear end.

"It's a nightmare hound!" I whispered.

"Nightmare's right," Brendan said, "But that is one...ugly dog."

"Neither part's right, actually," I said. "Nightmare hounds are harmless and shy. They were given that name by early explorers to the planet Snaiad who heard their shrill calls at night. But they're completely harmless to people."

"Do all the creatures of that world look so…" Ciri said, hoping that the creatures morphology would speak for itself.

"More or less," I said, "The part that looks like its head is actually formed from bony genital sheaths. There's no brain in there - only junk. On the other hand, that thing that looks like a giant snake-penis is the true mouth."

"So basically," Ciri said, "You're saying the thing that looks like a mouth is actually its penis, and the thing that looks like a penis is actually its mouth?" Ciri asked, scarcely believing what she was asking, and giggling at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

"Assuming it's male, then yeah, basically," I said. "They also have bones made of a special hydrocarbon compound that feels like very hard wood. The bones can be brown, black, or even green, and they're also highly flammable."

"Who made them?" Brendan asked.

"C.M. Koseman," I said, "Back in his college days, when he was going by the name Nemo Ramjet online."

Pras began to move down toward the river on his own, but instead of going straight, he moved closer to the river's edge farther down away from the nightmare hound, as if to communicate to the skittish alien that he was no threat. When he reached the water, he bent down and began to take in mouthfuls of water, swallowing them with a casual backwards flip of his head (fun fact - birds and other dinosaurs don't have peristalsis in their throats, and rely on gravity to bring food and water down to their stomachs).

Kelpie came to Pras' side to take a drink as well, the nightmare hound still eyeing us with cautious interest. It clicked its pincer-shaped genital sheaths, and gently pawed the rocks on which it stood. Eventually, it decided that we were nothing to fear, and returned its attention to the important task of drinking - only to be interrupted by a loud crashing through the trees behind it. The nightmare hound decided the risk wasn't worth it, and bounded off back into the jungle without looking back to see what was coming.

The six of us on the other hand stood where we were, not knowing what to expect. Ciri reached for the sword on her back, while Brendan put his hand on the hilt at his side. Dark shapes moved behind the thick trunks obscuring their true form. As they got closer to the river, they grew bigger, lighter, and more defined. When they finally made it to the river's edge, I knew what they were.

One of them growled at us, the sound deep and rumbling from within its gut. It stamped one of its columnar feet, making it very clear that it didn't want us near. Kelpie and Pras didn't need any more convincing; they both stepped back to give the gigantic beasts enough room to feel comfortable.

"Let me guess," Ciri said quietly, "Dinosaurs?"

"Yes," I said, "But not any dinosaurs from our world."

"What do you mean?" Ciri asked.

"Have you ever wondered what your life would be like if you'd never met Geralt? Or if the slaughter of Cintra never happened?"

Ciri was quiet at first. "Not really," she said at last, "though I can imagine things would be quite different, wouldn't they?"

"Exactly," I said. "Where Brendan and I come from, there was a mass extinction 66 million years ago that wiped out 65% of all life on earth, including all the non-bird dinosaurs. But these dinosaurs are from a world where that never happened. So dinosaurs continued to evolve for another 66 million years, into forms that never existed in our world - like these!"

The herd of dinosaurs that had come to drink was made of huge beasts, the largest of which were over 15 meters long. Their pebbly hides were light green, save for pale white stripes running along their necks, backs, and tails. Unlike other giant dinosaurs, their tails were relatively short, though still quite muscular. And though their necks were much shorter than something like a _Brontosaurus_, their skulls were far larger over all, with stubby brow horns over their eyes and short, hooked beaks on the ends of their snouts.

"Balunduars," I said, "The descendents of small horned dinosaurs like _Protoceratops._"

"Is that spec world?" Brendan asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, but I can't remember which contributor made these."

"Ah, makes sense," Brendan said.

We watched the hypothetical dinosaurs drink for a few more minutes, after which the largest individual began to snort and swing its bulky head from side to side facing us. It was clear that it was becoming less and less tolerant of our presence, and we decided to acquiesce his warning, leading Pras and Kelpie away from the river and back into the jungle.

After riding for several more minutes, light suddenly filled our eyes as we burst through the treeline and onto the shallows of a large lake, which only reached as high as the creatures' ankles. The lake was fed by a waterfall far off across deeper water, sprays of tiny water droplets raining down slowly to the surface below, cascading rainbows drifting in the air. Flocks of brilliant purple creatures standing in the shallows unfolded their wings and took off: tetrapterons from Pandora. The four-winged piscovores had wingspans of about 5 feet, and their membranous wings were decorated in striking patterns of violet and indigo. The undersides of their bodies were bright yellow. As with most of Pandora's predators, the jaws of the tetrapterons were mobile: shooting forward from the skull like fish on earth. The flock flapped frantically into the sky, disturbed by the power and speed of the horse and the raptor.

But Pras and Kelpie had no impact whatsoever on the giant titanosaurs, lazily ambling through the shallows. The giant herbivores reached up with long necks over 50 feet in the air, stripping off the dark green needles of conifers growing along the water's edge. Tiny heads grasped the branches with peg-shaped teeth, and pulled sharply downwards to collect as many of the leaves as possible. From nose to tail, the dinosaurs were over 115 feet long, a length that was mostly taken up by their necks and tails. Their chubby bodies were supported by legs that towered over us like pillars of an ancient temple. All around them, tiny anurognathid pterosaurs flitted about them, treating the titanosaurs like fortresses of flesh. These pigeon-sized, furry, frog-mouthed reptiles gorged themselves on ecto parasites attached to the giants' skin.

We rode in between the titanic legs with abandon, the massive sauropods paying us no heed. We were far too tiny to be of any concern to such powerful creatures. The only danger we had to watch out for was making sure not to get in the way of a misplaced foot. I laughed joyously as I reveled in not only seeing these animals - creatures I had essentially worshipped since before I could remember - but being so close to them. I could reach out and touch them if I wanted. In all of my life, I never dreamed I'd ever be able to experience these magnificent creatures in all of their splendor. The feeling was so powerful that not even their liberal release of gas and waste could spoil it for me. The music had changed too, incorporating triumphant horns and reverent strings.

As we made it through the herd, the water grew suddenly darker, hinting at a sudden drop off. We veered sharply to the right to avoid it.

Nearing the tree line once more, an explosion of white, watery foam erupted from our left as a slender snout snapped at Kelpie. The agile horse leaped in terror, though it avoided the narrow jaws lined with teeth like five inch needles. Pras had to dart to the side to avoid the creature's head as it flopped down onto the water's edge, a full 5 feet from the tip of its snout to the crown of its skull.

Ciri reined in Kelpie, pulling the horse to the side to get a better look at the behemoth which had just lunged at her. Pras trotted by her side so i could see it too. In many cases, it's hard to identify prehistoric species because the features used to define different taxa are based on subtle aspects of their skeletal anatomy, usually impossible to discern from a living animal. But there was no confusing the _Prionosuchus _for anything else. The 30 foot predator looked very much like a giant gharial, though it was actually part of an ancient, extinct group of early tetrapods called temnospondyls. Instead of the dry, scaly skin and bony osteoderms of a crocodile, its skin was smooth and shiny from not only the water, but also from the mucus coating the outside of its body. The eyes had horizontal pupils like a frog. Though it had limbs, they were tiny, and all but useless for anything apart from hauling the creature's tremendous bulk from the muddy shores of the lake back into deeper water.

I gawked at the sight of the enormous animal. Though the exact nature of its phylogeny was complicated, it was more or less the largest amphibian that ever lived: a Permian titan from 35 million years before the first dinosaurs. I gave several boisterous laughs as we watched the _Prionosuchus _disappear back into the depths with a careless sweep of its paddle-shaped tail.

"_Prionosuchus_!" I called out, "Not even two hours out, and a goddamn _Prionosuchus_!"

"Pretty excited, considering your two best mates were nearly swallowed alive," Ciri said, though she was smiling.

"Don't worry," I said, "I'm sure it won't miss the next time."

Ciri rolled her eyes as she kicked at Kelpie's side, sending the mare galloping onwards into the forest, Pras following close behind.

Moving further Southeast through the jungle, we started to notice that the trees were thinning, and there were even human buildings situated in the forest. These were mostly apartment buildings or small shops and bodegas, similar to what you might see in the Bronx, except for all the tropical plantlife. There were even paved roads with cars on them, and many a pedestrian traveling up and down the side walks.

Just as I was beginning to wonder where we were, we came to the sparkling surface of a vast body of water, in the center of which was an island. On this island was a jungle of a different sort - one made of concrete and steel, though it looked as if the jungle flora had gotten a small foothold within its confines. Numerous skyscrapers stood several hundred feet high, many of which ended in tall spires that pierced the sky like spear tips. We could hear the incessant street traffic all the way from the opposite shore. And as if we needed any more confirmation as to which city this was, the green copper surface of Lady Liberty shone magnificently in the afternoon sun

"Well, would you look at that!" I said, grinning. "If it ain't the Big Apple."

"What?" Ciri asked.

"New York City!" I cried out in joy, "Manhattan island! The unofficial capital of planet earth!"

"What's it doing here?" Brendan asked, "There's no way we could have made it all the way to the East Coast by now."

Ciri got down from Kelpie and knelt down by the water. She sniffed it a few times before, scooping some up with both hands and splashing it on her face. "It's fresh water," she said, "this is a lake."

"Huh," I said, "I guess this is just how it got rearranged when Hope created the world. Anyway, you guys wanna pop into the city for a bit, maybe get some lunch?"

"We haven't got any money," Ciri said, "And I doubt they accept UA credits"

"But isn't New York an allied state of the UA?" I asked. "If so, then we should be able to get UA credits exchanged for money."

"To be honest, I don't even know," Ciri said, "So many different states have been added to the list of allies, that I've kind of lost track."

"Well, let's stop by a bank and see if we can get our credits exchanged. If we can, cool, if not then we can still do some sight seeing at least," I pointed out.

"Good point," Brendan pointed out.

We took the Brooklyn-Battery tunnel in, which was devoid of traffic since no one was coming in or out of the city. Once we reached the city streets, the situation changed dramatically, showing the vehicular congestion for which New York is famous for, even among major cities. Yellow taxi cabs dominated the roads, accompanied by city buses, personal vehicles, and bikers. The sidewalks teemed with pedestrians going up and down every street and avenue, keeping their heads down and doing their best to ignore each other's existence. All in all, it was largely indistinguishable from Manhattan in 2018, though there were a few notable discrepancies.

As I mentioned before, many of the local tropical plants had gained a foothold in the city, giving it an overgrown look. We even saw a few city workers clearing the plants away, but it looked like a losing battle. Pigeons fluttered about the city as they do in the real world, but they weren't alone. Small, furry, frog-mouthed anurognathid pterosaurs like the ones accompanying the titanosaurs also twirled about the city's high rises, looking for all the world like flying muppets. In addition to rats, the sewers and alleyways were home to the Late Permian dicynodont, _Diictodon_, which rummaged through dumpsters and poked their holes out of sewer grates. Though New York was prided on its diversity in the real world, it looked far less cosmopolitan compared to the City of the Universal Alliance. All of the residents were human, with not a single other species to be seen. Many New Yorkers gave Pras curious looks as we passed them by. No doubt because they mostly kept to themselves in the city, and weren't as well acquainted with the local wildlife.

As it turned out, there were at least some banks in New York that would exchange UA credits for US dollars, which we found out after stopping by the New York Commercial Bank on South End Avenue. With our pockets loaded, we decided to spend a good couple hours in the city. We had lunch at Katz' Deli, which I had only been to once before. The slightly cantankerous staff weren't anything Ciri couldn't handle, having dealt with many an ornery innkeep in the past. All three of us decided on pastrami, even though Ciri had never heard of it. She was quite taken with the salted luncheon meat.

After lunch we wandered up town for a bit, stopping by the Empire State Building and taking the elevator to the highest point allowed. From there, we could see many things - the Great Tree of the UA loomed high over the horizon as always, though there was another huge tree as well. Though it wasn't as big as the tree of the UA, it was closer. In fact, it wasn't just one tree, but a number of them, growing in a kind of symbiosis. It was one of the giant Hometrees of Pandora, and was claimed as home by the Na'vi after they left the city.

After that we went on to Grand Central Terminal, and then West to Times Square. The tourists were in full force, snapping pics with homeless people dressed as off-brand copyrighted characters, and shopping at all the major stores. Ciri suggested we stop by the M&M store, being rather amusingly entertained by the candy characters. This eventually led to her being confused about the concept of characters advertising for a food product, when they were the product in question.

"So why do you like this place so much?" Ciri asked me, looking out the window of the store at the huge, flashing billboard screens.

"It's one of the biggest cities in the world where I come from," I said. "And, I don't know, but there's just always been something about New York, a kind of….I don't know, personality to it. A kind of character that you don't see a whole lot in other cities. I've been to Chicago, Los Angeles, and even the City of the UA, but….none of them feel quite like New York. You know, I used to go to university here?"

"Really?" Ciri asked.

I nodded. "Yup. The School of Visual Arts. It's back downtown, 23rd Street. I went for two semesters in computer art, but got cold feet about the cost and ended up transferring to community college. Still haven't gotten a degree to this day."

"Why not?"

"Eh...it's complicated," I said. "I'll tell you some other time."

I could tell that Ciri wanted to press me to tell her right then, but she didn't get the chance. We stepped out of the M&M store only to find that it was far colder than when we went in. Before, the sun had been high in the sky, and the temperature was positively balmy. But the instant I stepped out of the store, goosebumps sprung up along my skin, and I instantly wrapped my hands around my forearms. My breath escaped in wisps of hot mist in the frigid air. Above us, dark clouds loomed high in the sky, blotting out all traces of the sun. It was close to three O'clock when we went into the store, but now it looked as if sunset was long past.

"Jesus Christ, what happened?" I blurted out.

"Uh...no clue," Brendan said, the only one of us still comfortable thanks to his ubiquitous black sweatshirt.

"I don't like this...not one bit," Ciri said in a grim voice. We weren't the only ones to notice the change. There were noticeably fewer people on the streets now,and those that remained clutched their arms in a desperate attempt to keep the warmth inside their bodies.

We all caught the sound of breaking glass and smashing stone from some place far off up town. Cars honked and skidded in the streets while the sound of crashing bumpers carried between the buildings. People were panicking in the streets, aimlessly rushing in all directions. Not everyone was caught up in the thralls of chaos: some took the opportunity to loot the stores throughout the square.

"What the hell's going on?" Ciri called out over the screaming mob.

I didn't know, and no one was willing to take the time to stop and explain. I tried looking through the crowd, but couldn't see anything apart from more panicked human bodies. Then, a strange sensation began to flow through the bottoms of my feet. It was faint at first, barely noticeable, but it grew stronger with each passing second. It started as a slight tingle, but eventually became a violent shaking that I could feel in every bone in my body. The earth was quaking beneath our feet, and I could see it was having an equal effect on Ciri and Brendan. I was certain it was an earth tremor...until I saw them.

As the fleeing mob began to thin out away from us, we could see that they were being followed - or rather, pursued - by charging herds of creatures. Stampeding beasts thundered down the streets of New York, packed together in dense clusters that absolutely destroyed anything that couldn't get away in time. At the front of the herd were brontotheres: ancient relatives of rhinoceros twice the size of the modern white rhino. Instead of keratinous horns, they had bony, heart-shaped growths sticking out of their noses. I couldn't identify the exact genus, but they were something akin to _Megacerops _or _Embolotherium_.

Behind the brontotheres were the huge stem-elephants: Gomphotheres. These giants were larger than modern elephants, and bore a bizarre shovel-shaped appendage growing out of their lower jaws, made of their lower incisors. As with the brontotheres, there was no guessing the exact genus because the distinguishing features used to identify them were in the skeletal material, invisible in the living flesh. They were something akin to the Asian _Platybelodon_, or the North American _Amebelodon_.

Lastly, as far as I could see, there were dozens of ancient giraffes. Unlike the others, these were easy to identify based on the distinct ornamentation of their skulls. Four splaying ossicones grew upwards out of their heads, betraying their identity as _Bramatherium_. They lacked the long necks and great size of their modern cousins, though they were still as big as a large antelope, and could move with incredible swiftness and agility.

Before I could even think of a response, I felt something slide between my legs and push upwards. It took my mind a few moments to realize that Pras had picked me up onto his back, and I had to pull hard on his feathers to keep from falling off.

"Pras, no wait-" Ciri cried out.

But it was too late. Pras had turned in place and began bolting down the street away from the stampede. It was a foolish decision: the _Dakotaraptor _had to weave in between the stopped cars in the road, and leap over abandoned bicycles. These same obstacles did nothing to stop the stampede. The brontotheres easily flipped aside the empty cars, and the Amebelodon tossed them aside with careless sweeps of their heads. The herd closed in around us in just a few minutes. I looked back to see the oncoming shape of a Gomphothere's shovel tusks as it was about to crush us both into oblivion.

In desperation, Pras crouched down low and sprung upwards into the air, just barely reaching the top of a nearby tour bus. Scrambling to the center of the roof, he successfully avoided the elephant, though we were now surrounded by a rushing torrent of mega mammals tearing through Times Square like a raging flood. Frightful trumpets like the horns of war blasted over the city from the Gomphotheres. The brontotheres grunted and bellowed with fury. No matter which we I looked, more and more of the rampaging beasts poured down the street. I tried in vain to find Ciri, Brendan, Kelpie, and ZIrael among the edges of the stampede, but they were nowhere to be found. All the while, every time one of the mammals passed close by, they'd slam against the bus with the side of their body. The bus shook and Pras and I would shake along with it, usually falling to our knees.

Finally, the time came. A particularly large Gomphothere with enormous tusks and a wide shovel-jaw rammed his head into the side of the bus, sending me over the edge and slamming down onto the roof of a nearby car on my back. All air left my lungs, and I gasped to recover myself even as my entire body felt stunned by the impact. I was jolted back to the moment when a _Bramatherium _bounded over me and pranced off the hood of the car. Remembering where I was, I realized I needed to find shelter, or else be mashed to a flattened pile of flesh. With a sudden impulse of movement, I rolled over off my back and got down from the car. I didn't have much time - another large Gomphothere was barreling down on me.

With no other options, I dove into the driver's seat of the car I had landed on. I looked through the rear windshield for less than half a second, seeing nothing more than sagging, wrinkled brown skin before the elephant stomped down onto the trunk, crushing the steel of the body with just one foot. The other foot came down over the roof, and I crawled onto the floor beneath the steering wheel as a third foot smashed the hood and the engine like an empty soda can. The crumpled frame of the vehicle wrapped around my body, trapping me against what remained of the roof and the floor, the bottom of the steering wheel digging into my forehead.

I was completely ensnared in the car, my body like a single sardine stuck in a can. I couldn't even move my head. Feet, flat and hooved, pounded ferociously against the pavement of the road, leaving cracked footprints behind. Every so often, a strong pressure squeezed my body from above, alerting me to another animal moving over the car. Thankfully, none seemed as massive as the bull that turned the car into scrap, and so they were unable to crush me any further. That was lucky for me, because any more pressure would have popped me like a rotten raspberry.

There was one moment, trapped in the car, that stood out to me more than all others. One of the brontotheres passed within inches of me, the door having been torn away from its hinges long ago. The moment was brief - a fraction of a second. Yet to this day, I can remember with great distinction the instant when that brontothere passed by, its head held low to the ground. My eyes made contact with the one eye visible from that side of its head. It was wide, so much so that the edges of its orange iris were bordered by the white sclera. There was an unnerving blankness in that eye: a mindlessness, like something that had once been full, but had been fully drained.

My mind, stunned from the sheer magnitude of the stampede, was in no position to measure time. So I don't know how long it took for the stampede to pass. Regardless of how long it took, the time finally came when the thundering cacophony of the galloping beasts finally began to die down as the stragglers of the herd began to shuffle by. Things were quiet. All the car alarms had been utterly obliterated by the tsunami of flesh that washed over Times Square. Something began to shift in my peripheral vision, but I couldn't turn to look at it. A soft point began to nudge my forehead, and an animalistic sniffing lightly blew away my bangs. Just as I was beginning to fear that an opportunistic predator was sizing me up for a snack, I heard the animal call: it was the familiar honking noise of Pras, and he was calling for the others to come and find me.

"There!" I heard Brendan's voice cry out from some place away.

Not long after that, I heard the clip-clopping of Kelpie's hooves as Brendan and Ciri rushed over to help me. "Damnit!" Ciri cursed, examining the damage done to the car, and how it had ensnared my body. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." I said in a voice that was barely a squeak. My chest was so tightly compressed that I couldn't summon enough air for anything louder.

"Shit," Ciri said, not at all impressed by my reassurance. "How the devil are we supposed to get him out of here?"

"As far as I can tell, we're going to have to cut away the frame," Brendan said. "Or else beat it until we can pull him out."

"No rush," I squeaked again.

Both of them took turns bashing at the crushed frame, trying to create even the tiniest bit of space that I might just squeeze through. After much hacking, they finally created enough space on the left side for me to begin squirming. When they saw my minute movements, they both tried to slip their hands into the available space so they could get a hold on me. Brendan had more success than Ciri, but with their combined strength - and with help from my wriggling - they were at last able to pry me from my vehicular compartment.

I gasped as I took my first genuine breaths of fresh air for several minutes, and knelt on the ground as I allowed the influx of oxygen to return my strength. Ciri and Brendan were panting as well, having expended no small amount for their own energy in prying me free. Pras came to my side and nuzzled my cheek with the naked skin on the end of his snout. Brendan was the first to speak. "How are you feeling?"

"A little...well, tight...but fine all the same. Thanks," I said.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Ciri said, standing back up to her full height and staring downtown toward where the stampede had gone.

"I don't know, but…" I paused, thinking about what I had seen in that brontothere's eye. "I think...I think they were scared.."

"Scared?" Brendan asked.

"Well...more terrified, actually," I said, getting to my feet. "Trust me, I got a hell of a lot closer to those things than I would have liked, and when I looked into their eyes, I saw...just, this pure, mindless terror."

"Huh," Brendan said. "Makes you wonder would could inspire such terror in creatures as huge as those."

"Maybe for you," Ciri said, "Though personally, I'd rather not find out." We all turned around to take our leave, but when we did, Ciri let out a startled cry, reaching up for her sword and pulling it out of its scabbard in a flash.

Brendan and I both turned to look at her. She was staring straight ahead down Broadway, which was completely abandoned. The lights were all out, and a thick fog drifted silently over the paved road. Without the blaze of the neon signs, the street was swallowed by shadow, and we could barely see anything more than 100 feet along. It was an eerie sight, though nothing that would cause me to yelp like Ciri did.

"What is it?" I asked, straining to see what it was that alerted her.

"There!" she said, pointing with her right hand down the street.

I squinted to see if I could make anything out in the gloom, but I saw nothing. Not even a pigeon or rat. "What, what do you see?" I asked.

"What do you mean, there, right there!" she said, sounding astonished that we couldn't see whatever it was she was pointing at.

Brendan was just as puzzled as I was. "What, what do you see?"

"How can you not see them?" she said, holding her sword out in front of her, poised for an attack.

"How can we not see what?" I asked loudly, my heart quickly filling with several things at once: fear, confusion, and even irritation.

"The bloody great wraiths heading right toward us!" she said.

"Wraiths?" Brendan and I both stated, looking back at the street.

I struggled to try and discern any movement or shape within the dark, but there was no sign of anything, wraith or otherwise. Suddenly, Kelpie reared onto her hind legs, kicking with her front ones frantically, snorting and whinnying with wild rage. Pras likewise began to flap his flightless wings and cry out with an alarming honk. Zirael simply took off from Ciri's shoulder, darting to someplace in the city's heights.

"Wraiths!" she shouted as if we were morons. "Dozens of them, gliding straight toward us!"

I was about to ask her what they looked like, but before another word could leave my mouth, the scene before my eyes began to flicker. The darkness that had fallen over the city began to blink in and out of view, replaced by a harsh white light from overhead. And the wide openness of the streets, bordered by building after building closed around me into small walls that packed me into a confined room. The pavement vanished, replaced by cold blue tiles.

I looked left and then right, but it did nothing to clarify what was happening to my vision. If was as if I was blinking in between two different places: the darkened streets of Manhattan, as well as some small room lit with white light. Glimpses of the city began to grow dimmer and less frequent, while the scene in the room came more into focus. It was soon immediately apparent that this was a bathroom - my bathroom, from my house back in Manchester, CT. I was sitting on the toilet, but the lid was down. The bathtub and red shower curtain were in front of me, and to my left was the sink. On the very edge of the sink, not a foot away, was a small orange bottle.

And that's when the cold began to wrap its fingers around my heart, and the strength of its grip seemed to drain all warmth and happiness from inside. It became a burden simply to stand up straight. A freezing emptiness was spreading. It not only coursed through my body, but also began to fill my mind, like a steadily-rising flood of despair and hopelessness.

I heard a voice in my head. It was an angry, hissing voice that was as disgusted as it was furious. It reverberated from deep inside my skull, filling up both of my ears from the inside out.

_There's nothing left._

_You are unloved_

_Undeserving_

_A vain, miserable fool_

_You're nothing but a drain_

_A waste of time and effort_

_Go on_

_Take the bottle_

_End it_

_Isn't that what you want?_

_Don't you want them to care?_

_To miss you?_

_Or maybe you just want them to suffer_

_As you do_

_Because that's all you are, isn't it?_

_A gross, pitiful excuse for a decent person._

_Because you know that they do care_

_But there's not enough humanity in you to feel it_

_Their love is wasted on you_

_So do it!_

_Let them move on_

_And give their love to those who actually deserve it_

_What have you done for them_

_Besides eat their food_

_Spend their money_

_Waste their time?_

_If you don't have the decency to make something of your worthless, pathetic self_

_Then at least relieve them of having to deal with you_

I took the bottle in hand, screwing open the cap with ease.

_Good_

_Looks like you do have some strength after all_

_If not the will to keep from shoveling down mouthful after mouthful of _

_Deep fried garbage. _

I took one pill, and filled a small cup with water, gulping it down.

_You've never even kissed a girl_

_Never held hands._

_Never even admitted feelings without them_

_Recoiling in revulsion._

_You have nothing to offer but disgust_

I took a second pill

_Don't stop now!_

_Not like the million other things you started and then abandoned_

_Is there anything you've actually finished?_

_Anything that mattered to anyone?_

_College dropout after three false starts._

_Brendan saw it through to his degree_

_What's your excuse?_

I took a third pill

_It'll take more than that!_

_Just look at you!_

_Roll after roll of flabby, oily fat_

_You can feel the layers of lard sliding against each other._

_Hairy_

_Pasty_

_With a sagging gut_

_No wonder it makes them sick just to look at you!_

A fourth

_How many therapists have you seen?_

_How many times have you been into treatment?_

_Does it ever make a difference?_

_No!_

_Why?_

_Because that's just how hopeless you are!_

A fifth

_Stupid, ugly neckbeard_

A sixth

_Fatass failure_

A seventh

_Loveless virgin_

An eighth

_Useless_

A ninth

_Retard!_

A tenth

_Nothing!_

Nothing. Nothing but a searing hot flash of white that filled my eyes. I felt some explosive force push me backwards, and my head and back collided with something hard and metallic. The piercing brightness of the light stung my eyes, and I held up my arm to shield them. A sound pushed away the hateful voice - that of a woman's voice, screaming with unyielding fury.

Moment after moment passed with no relief in sight. As warm tears began to pool in the corners of my eyes, the light receded, replaced by black. But the blackness didn't last long. My eyes adjusted soon afterwards, and the streets of New York were formed out of grey shapes, ravaged by the passing of the stampede. Brendan was lying across from me, spread-eagled on his stomach. In between us Ciri was kneeling, staring at the street and panting slowly.

It took me a moment to remember where I was, and how I had gotten there. Inexplicably, I was sitting with my back against a taxi. I tried to get to my feet, but I stopped as my joints all burned with a sudden aching sensation. Unable to do much else, I crawled like an infant toward Ciri. In a groaning voice, I spoke to her. "Ciri…" I began, finding that I didn't have much breath to spare, "Wha...what happened?"

She turned to look at me. Tears streamed from her green eyes, which seemed far duller than normal. "It..it was the wraiths," she said in between long, strained breaths. "Dozens of them. They came...circled us….you and Brendan couldn't see them, and then you fainted. They reached for you...and then...I saw things. Horrible things. And then I…"

As my mind was slowly beginning to regain some power of comprehension, I was beginning to piece together what happened. "The wraiths," I asked, "what did they look like?"

"Tall...thin...dressed in black, hooded cloaks that covered their faces. They didn't walk...they glided over the ground. And...and there was a...a sort of raspy, gasping noise."

I nodded. "Of course...those weren't wraiths. Those were dementors."

"What?" Ciri asked.

"Terrible things," I said. "Foul creatures that feed off of people's joy, leaving them with nothing but misery.. They force you to relive the worst moments of your life," and in Ciri's case, that could mean anything from the slaughter of Cintra to the Battle of Kaer Morhen. "The visions they caused you...they must have activated the power of the Elder Blood."

"Why couldn't either of you see them?"

"Because dementors can't be seen by those who don't possess magic," I said.

"They couldn't have gone far," Brendan groaned as he got back up to his hands and knees. I knew instantly that he was right. Though most of my mental faculties had returned, I nonetheless still felt a cold numbness inside that prevented me from feeling anything strongly, most particularly joy and hope. Even if the dementors themselves weren't close, the despair they cast most certainly was.

"We...we need to get out of here. Back to the city," I said through labored breaths, trying to stand back up again.

"Right," Ciri said. "Patrick, you get back on Pras. Brendan and I'll get on Kelpie, then I'll teleport us all back to the city."

"And ZIrael?" I asked.

"She can find her way back on her own, I've no doubt about that."

I nodded, looking around for Pras. He was hiding behind a car, but came instantly when I called to him. In no time, we were all back on our steeds. Ciri reached out a hand, and I grabbed it, ready to be filled with the warm, buzzing sensation that accompanies being teleported by Ciri. Except that it never came. I felt Ciri's fingers wrap around mine, and saw a pale blue light flicker around her for several seconds, but we were still in Manhattan.

"Ciri, what's wrong?" Brendan asked.

"I dunno," she said. "I'm trying, but...I just can't do it. It's like there's something standing in the way between me and my powers."

With her words, the despair felt stronger and closer, as if it physically settled on my shoulders. "What? Why?" I said in a voice that was almost a whine.

"Maybe I used too much of my power when I drove the dementors away?" Ciri suggested simply.

"Maybe," Brendan said, "Or maybe it's the dementors themselves. Dementors feed on human happiness, draining away every last drop of hope and joy in a person until they're left with nothing but their worst memories and feelings. Being in a state like that must surely have an effect on using one's powers. It certainly did for those in the Wizarding World."

"Whatever the reason," I said, "It doesn't change the fact that we're stuck here… and Brendan was right. The dementors aren't far away, certainly not far enough away. Ciri's power drove them off for now, but it's far from a proper Patronus...we'll never make it back to the city before they launch another attack."

Ciri added, "And I don't think I could drive them off again, not without ripping the whole universe into pieces."

"Wait!" Brendan said, coming the closest of any of us to having a moment of hope since the dementors attacked. "We don't need to make it to the city. Remember the top of the Empire State Building? The Hometree?"

"Right!" I proclaimed. "The Na'vi, they'd have to help us! If we can just hold out until we make it there-"

I was cut off by a sound, rising up into the darkened sky from some place that was both far away and much too close: a lonely wail, like the piercing scream of some loathsome, evil thing. It wasn't exactly music to Ciri's ears, but it clearly had a far more potent effect on Brendan and me - and for good reason. We instantly recognized that unholy cry, having often heard it on many a sleepover. Personally, I can still vividly remember the first time I heard it: in a darkened cinema sometime in the winter of 2001.

"We have to move, right now," Brendan hissed, with as much urgency and energy as he could muster while still in the frigid, numbing grip of the dementors. "Get to the Hometree."

"Right," I said, "We ride East, over the Queensboro bridge. Follow me," I commanded, leading them toward the East Side. Moving down the streets, our steeds had to wind their way through the devastated debris left behind in the wake of the stampede, through thick banks of grey fog drifting like ghosts over the pavement. There was no sign of anyone: no bystanders on the sidewalks, no cabbies or bus drivers, no homeless people shivering in the unnatural chill. There weren't even any lights on in the apartment buildings surrounding us. No sound apart from the pounding of hooves and claws on the road could be heard. It was if the entire city had simply died like an overused lightbulb without so much as a flicker.

It took me a short while to notice, but riding with Pras had done something to restore my ability to feel something other than cold and hopelessness. I dug my fingers into his feathers, truly feeling them. This in turn caused me to remember the many years I'd spent rigorously studying the evolution of feathers in non-avian dinosaurs, bringing me back to that blessed clade: the primary source of all the passion and ecstasy in my life. I suppose it makes sense - after all, what is a patronus if not the externalization of one's sense of self? Perhaps tapping into the core of who you are helps to counter the effects of a dementor, at least so long as the creatures themselves aren't immediately present.

I was startled out of my contemplation by an obscene shriek ringing through the murky streets. As we passed through another intersection, a black shape charged from uptown to intercept us. In the low light, it first appeared as a shapeless form, but I knew what it was and so did Brendan. There was no mistaking its mournful screech for anything else. Maybe it was this solid familiarity that allowed me to see it more clearly in the dark.

The figure of a man sat on the back of a great black horse, draped entirely in a hooded cloak that hid his face entirely. It would have been easy to mistake him for a dementor, if not for the armored gauntlets covering his hands, and the longsword gripped in his fingers.. The arm holding it struck at Ciri, who just managed to catch it with her own sword thanks to the intense training the witchers gave her at Kaer Morhen, which even the dementors could not extinguish completely. When the two blades met, Cirit shifted her weight in a subtle though effective way which redirected the black rider for a few moments before he could reorient his steed and continue to pursue us.

"Don't stop!" I shouted, "Keep going!"

Pras and Kelpie dashed out to the edge of the city, where we could make out the bridge leading from the concrete jungle to the green. The Nazgul kept right on our heels as we crossed the bridge and were once more surrounded by the dense layers of bush. I had held some small wish that escaping the city might have freed us from the influence of the dementors, but it wasn't so. The jungle, which had been so rich and filled with life just a few hours before, was quiet and dull, steeped in the same unnatural fog. I couldn't see anything in the dark of the jungle, and had to trust in Pras' nocturnal vision to guide us.

To my side, I could still hear the thudding of Kelpie's hooves over the leaf litter, but there was another set of hooves pounding as well. This one was off somewhere to the right. At first I assumed it had to be the black rider, but that couldn't be. There was no way he could have caught up to us now, especially now that we had returned to the forest. But of course, he was only one of a number: one of Nine.

I could make out the sound of more hooves approaching us from the sides, closing in on us as we continued the charge Eastwards. A weak part of me wanted them to be the hooves of the hexapodal direhorses ridden by Na'vi warriors, but this couldn't be. At about twice the size of a Clydesdale, a dire horse's hoof beats would have been far more powerful. The black horses of the Nazgul bayed horrifically as they drew closer, closing in around us and preparing for the final strike.

Pale lights began to flicker into view. I wondered at first if I was hallucinating, being driven further and further to the edge of madness by the twin strike of the dementors and the Nazgul. But the lights sitting among the shrubs and trees like blue lanterns began to grow brighter and more numerous. They were joined by flashes of purple and green. Soon it was as if we had wandered into an eerily silent rave in the middle of a primordial rain forest. As Kelpe and Pras raced over the forest floor, each of their footfalls sent a burst of light along the ground, carpeted with luminous mosses and lichens. At last, my weakened mind realized that we were surrounded by the bioluminescent foliage typical of the Pandoran jungle, sending a jolt of desperate hope shooting through my mind. We weren't safe yet though: the Nazgul rode like wild shadows through the jungle as amorphous clouds of black against the backdrop of the vivid, biological lightshow. Curiously, though not surprisingly, while the steps of our steeds caused the ground to light up, their black horses' hooves provoked the opposite reaction, each one prompting the luminescent organisms to black out for a moment.

At last, they came. They announced their coming with several whoops and hollers, which were soon joined by the pounding of hooves far greater than those of either Kelpie or the black horses. The direhorses' bodies were adorned with brilliant streaks of bright blue bioluminescence, which contrasted with the deep indigo of their hides. The direhorses didn't neigh or whinny, but instead gave odd croaking barks (indeed, they sounded more like Pras than Kelpie). The approach of the Na'vi riders caused the Nazgul to retreat into the depths of the jungle.

As Kelpie and Pras finally realized they were free to slow down and catch their breath, the gigantic Hometree loomed high over us. Between the dark, the density of the forest, and the franticness of the chase, we had no idea how close we were until it was suddenly their before us. Several massive trunks weaved and coiled around one another, stretching several hundred feet high. These unfurled into a dense collection of branches that spread out over us like a titanic umbrella.

Three Na'vi horsemen trotted up to us. Two were clutching longbows, while the third carried a spear. The direhorses wore no saddle or harness, and the only tether between rider and steed were the neural que possessed by both. The Na'vi's were concealed in a braid of black hair running from the back of their skulls, while the direhorses had two on their heads, each one sticking out behind their beady eyes. The direhorses' skulls were more reminiscent of an anteater than anything traditionally considered equine, and instead of a mane, they possessed a tall sail of skin.

"Stop!" said the one carrying the spear. "Go no further. Who are you, and why have you come to us?"

Still feeling a great urgency, I proclaimed in as commanding a voice as I could muster, "I am Patrick Murphy, and this is Empress Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon. We are both members of the Universal Council of Intelligence, and your clan is sworn by a sacred oath to give us help!"

The three riders exchanged uncertain looks before the spearman said to one of the others, "Bring the Tsahik, she will know what to do."

We waited until they returned with Nuapi, the shaman of their clan, who recognized us immediately. She towered over us at nearly 11 feet tall, specks of bioluminescence covering her blue banded skin like glowing freckles. Her long back hair was tied back in many braids, and a delicate, pale grey shawl was draped over her shoulders. Lights like dim lanterns flickered in her wide, prosimian eyes for a brief moment before she considered us with a troubled expression. "Patrick Murphy," she proclaimed in a mix of surprise and confusion, "Empress Cirilla. What are you doing here?"

"We don't have much time to explain," I said in a haggard voice, already feeling very drained from the chase. "We're being chased, and our attackers aren't far behind."

"The black ones?" one of the bowman asked.

Brendan nodded. "There are nine of them, and they're after us. They broke off pursuit when you approached them, but they'll regroup and approach the village soon, perhaps even with an army of wraiths."

Nuapi turned to the spearman. "Ekhan - gather the warriors. Hold the line on the Western border of the village."

He nodded once to her before turning to his comrades. "Ride now!" he said, and the three of them galloped around the edge of the Hometree.

Returning to us, Nuapi said, "What must we do?"

"The riders, the black ones…the Nazgul...their power is in terror and intimidation. They won't launch an all out attack on the village. They'll try to frighten you into submission."

Nuapi sniffed. "The warriors of the Wing Bow Clan will not give into fear. If they come, we'll turn them away."

"But it's not just them," I said. "They're going to have a whole horde of terrible wraiths with them as well, and you can't fight them with weapons. We need magic"

"Come," she said motioning us to follow her.

Approaching the community of Na'vi within the shelter of the trunk system, we saw that all of the fittest Na'vi - no doubt the hunters and warrior - were amassing by a central totem, adorned with a huge, gnarled skull bearing two triangular sagittal crests. They were donning war paint, singing battle songs, and collecting their weapons. Meanwhile, the younger and more elderly Na'vi were being led up the spiraling interior to safety among the treetops. All of them swarmed around us as we made our way through the village, eager for answers as to just what was going on.

"Calm, people," Nuapi said firmly, holding up a four-fingered hand, "Calm. The sky people must come with me now. See to your duties and arm yourselves for the coming threat."

Nuapi led us to a small tent made of dried animal hides. It was clear to us that this was where she performed shamanic rituals. All along the sides of the tent, there were markings and paintings of complex ritual performances, and several dangling ornaments: gems and carvings which were assuredly amulets and talismans. At the very center, there was a large bowl of perfectly clear water, which sat still in the faint, flickering fire light. "Here," she said, pointing to the water. "This was given to us by the druids when we left the Great Tree where the City now stands. It allows us to speak to those in the city."

"Perfect!" i said with a sigh. "We can call for reinforcements."

Nuapi nodded. "I must speak the password first." She looked down at a perfect reflection of herself in the water, as if she were looking into a mirror. In a soft voice, she spoke. "Tirrena, Mosot'nuk, Ikrani" When the last syllable left her mouth, ripples began to appear in the water. Faint at first, they grew until Nuapi's reflection was completely obscured. When the ripples began to fade, her likeness didn't return. It was replaced by a very different one - a pale face with magnificent turquoise eyes framed with a few light freckles, and surrounded by brilliant red hair.

The face of Triss Merigold of Maribor.

"This is the City of the Universal Alliance, and we hear your call."

"This is Nuapi, Tsahik of the Clan of the Wing Bow. Our village is under attack and we are in need of help," she said.

I was so overjoyed of seeing Triss that I actually nudged my way next to Nuapi and said, "Triss!"

"Patrick?!" she called out in astonishment. "What the-why are- what's going on?"

"No time to explain!" I said, "We're under attack, and we need magic! We need any wizard or witch who is capable of conjuring a corporeal patronus, do you understand? _Corporeal Patronus_." I emphasized that as strongly as possible since not every magic-user was capable of creating one.

"How many do you need?"

"As many as you can give us," I said, "but most importantly, they need to get here as soon as possible. Every second counts."

"Understood," Triss said, "We'll get them out there as soon as we're able."

As Triss' face began to fade from the surface of the water, a young female Na'vi appeared at the entrance to the tent. She said, "They're here! They've come!"

Ciri, Brendan, and I all exchanged exhausted looks. We had no desire to face down the Nazgul again, but we knew we had no choice. Though the Na'vi could easily take the Nazgul in a direct confrontation, how they'd fare against the ringwraiths' power to inspire terror was another matter. We had to give the Na'vi every advantage we could. So even as a faint chill crept through my blood, I rose with Ciri and Brendan, and followed her out along with Nuapi to confront the Nine.

Nuapi had to part the sea of lean bodies that had gathered and clustered around the huge tree root which acted as the road into the village. Each member of the crowd was armed with bows, arrows, spears, and clubs, which they waved around menacingly toward the jungle. War cries rang out from all over the mob. Nuapi finally led us to the front of the group, where her mate and the chieftain, Benadu, was standing at the head.

About 100 feet in front of him were the Nazgul; all 9 of them spread out in a line, perched atop their black horses. I glanced at them from behind the imposing figure of Nuapi, but I could nonetheless feel the presence of a gnawing terror as I stared ahead into the shadowy voids beneath their hoods. Both the wraiths and their steeds stood silently, and we could hear no sound apart from the snorting of the horses. I felt something brush against the skin of my right hand, causing me to flinch before realizing that it was Ciri's. I took it, holding tight as I did the same with Brendan's. I was filled with an almost overwhelming desire to turn and run back into the village, finding some ditch in the roots of the Hometree to hide in.

One of the Nazgul bid his horse to step forward from the center of the line. He spoke in a voice that hissed and spat like the whisper of an angry serpent, devoid entirely of breath. "Good evening to you, Noble People. We are but humble servants of Lord Sauron the Great, who seeks ever the friendship of all peoples. We are tasked with retrieving the boy, the one called Patrick Murphy. He is guilty of crimes committed against our Lord, and we humbly ask that you turn him over to us."

"Crimes?" Nuapi asked surreptitiously. "And what crimes might these be. We are curious to know, as we can only guess as to what would pass for a crime in your lands. We know of your Master, black slaves, and we will not be taken in by such feeble lies!"

The Nazgul ignored her, save for a harsh, hissing snarl that trailed from under his hood. "Lord Sauron is wise and wealthy; powerful and generous. Give us the boy, and he will reward you with whatever it is you desire, be it gold, wisdom, power. We need only Patrick Murphy - the other two are not our concern."

Nuapi's hand, wider than my head, was raised over my chest as a symbolic barrier between me and the Nazgul. "Begone demons! Go back to whatever wretched blackness you come from. You will go no further in our lands, nor will you lay one finger on Patrick Murphy, not while the warriors of the Wing Bow Clan still draw breath."

All nine of them began to stir anxiously in their saddles. The voice spoke again, harsher and more terrible. "We give you one final chance. The Lord Sauron is wise, but his wrath is unforgiving, and he will not tolerate anything that stands in his way. Surrender the boy, or misery and despair will descend upon this village, and you will beg for death until the stars themselves cease to shine!"

All Nine of the Nazgul drove their horses forward. Most of the Na'vi stepped back at their approach, and even the bravest had to fight every fearful urge to remain in place. Nuapi was one such courageous soul: I saw her chest rise and fall as she struggled to draw strength from each breath, and her whole body trembled even as she faced the Ringwraiths down with her fearsome yellow eyes.

Before the Nazgul made it halfway across the root, a voice called out from some place close to us. I looked around and saw that it was Brendan, whose voice cried out in both terror and defiance.

"_A Elbereth Gilthoniel_

_Silivren penna miriel  
O menel aglar elenath  
Na-chaered palan-diriel  
O galadhremmin ennorath  
Fanuilos, le linnathon  
Nef aear, si nef aeron!"_

Though I had known Brendan for over 10 years, I had never heard him speak in a voice like that. In a way, it wasn't his own. Part of it seemed to call from someplace far away and long since lost. But in another way, it was right there with us. Loud. Strong. Unyielding. And its effect on the Nazgul was as potent as it was apparent. Their black horses had stopped in their tracks, tossing their heads and snorting in irritation. The ringwraiths crouched low in their saddles, their heads turned away from Brendan as he recited the Elvish hymn.

"_A Elbereth Gilthoniel  
o menel palan-diriel,  
le nallon sí di'nguruthos!  
A tiro nîn, Fanuilos!"_

Its effect was not only on the wraiths. I could feel a seed of warmth planted in my heart: the first of its kind since the stampede. It drifted through my blood and gave me hope. I wasn't the only one to feel strength return to them. Ciri was standing tall once more. The Na'vi's expressions turned from sheer terror to immovable defiance. Those that had retreated stepped back into the fray with the others.

It was clear what needed to be done. As Brendan came back around to the beginning, I picked it up with him. I had only ever known the first line, but the instant the words left my mouth, it was as if something seized me with a firm grasp, and lifted me up like a friend helping me to get back on my feet after falling down, to a place of light and courage. Each word of the hymn came as if I had memorized it long ago. Reciting together, Brendan and I had twice the effect on the Nazgul that he had had alone.

"_A Elbereth Gilthoniel_

_Silivren penna miriel  
O menel aglar elenath  
Na-chaered palan-diriel  
O galadhremmin ennorath  
Fanuilos, le linnathon  
Nef aear, si nef aeron!"_

Nuapi and Ciri looked at us, realizing what they must do, and they joined in the chant as well. The rest of the Clan rose up in praise of Varda. When the whole village sang, the light itself listened. The bioluminescent flora pulsated excitedly with brilliant light, flashing again and again. The flecks of pale blue light on the Na'vi shone with increasing strength as their voices grew louder. The Nazguls' horses bucked and bellowed in a terrific frenzy as their masters struggled to keep them under control. Each one was wailing and screeching with hateful, furious terror as they were confronted with the hym.

But just as I was hoping that we had succeeded in driving them off, the lead rider pulled out his sword and held it up over his head. In the most horrible voice yet, he said, "Send forth the Dark Ones."

The other eight wraiths followed his direction, unsheathing their swords and holding them up toward the sky, still choked with black haze. Their horses began to slowly step backwards one hoof at a time, until the Nazgul had been consumed by the shadow of the jungle, where even the brightest plants couldn't shine. As they receded, goosebumps began to creep up my arms. My breath escaped as a hot, moist fog as an unsettling, clammy chill began to move through my entire body like a sickness. The plants dimmed. Our voices grew quiet. And somewhere in my mind, that despicable, hateful voice began to whisper once more

_Weak-willed, feeble, no-good waste of-_

"They're coming.." Ciri said quietly, taking a step back.

"What is coming?" Nuapi asked, turning to her with a desperate terror.

But before we could answer her, one of the Na'vi cried out. We turned to see him collapse to his knees, staring upwards at the night with pure fear filling his eyes, nearly drained of their usual yellow radiance. Those around him backed away suddenly, with some bolting in various directions. But before we could get a better idea of what was happening to him, another scream rang out from somewhere else in the crowd as a younger Na'vi was pulled off of her feet and suspended a few feet off the ground.

I felt something frigid on both of my cheeks, like the grip of a pair of scabby, festering hands seizing my face with thin, bony fingers. They held onto my face with a vice-like grip, and I was almost ready to have my whole face torn away from my skull. But instead, whatever unseen agent behind that grip hoisted me off the ground, essentially dangingly me by my head. Embraced in the clutches of the dementor, I felt both of us begin to glide away from the Na'vi and toward the dark of the jungle, even as more horrified shrieks of the Na'vi rang out from throughout the village.

My whole mind seemed to blank out as I realized I had been snatched by a dementor, succumbing to the unimaginable horrors that awaited me. That's why i couldn't quite realize what happened until well after the fact. My vision turned in a flash from pitch black to blinding silver. My brain twirled and spun before I felt my body collide with a hard thud against the enormous tree root leading toward the village. Light and dark swirled around one another without shape or substance, like streaks of wet paint mixing together on an artist's palette.

Finally, I realized what I was looking at. It was a sea lion - one made of pure silver light, propelling itself through the air with its front flippers. It danced through their air with as much energy and elegance as the real animal, and it was not alone. All sorts of animals weaved from strands of silver light charged, pranced, and darted through the darkness. Wherever they went, anyone caught in the grip of a dementor was released with a gasp of relief. Beside the Na'vi, I saw the diminutive shapes of humans standing with one arm pointed forward, and what looked like a wooden stick in their hands. Proclamations of, "_Expecto patronum_!" echoed from one side of the crowd to the next, the wizards using their wands like conductors directing their patronus'.

I heard a calm voice speak in my ear, "Come on, up you get Mr. Murphy,".

A withered hand grabbed me under my arm and pulled me back up to my feet with surprising force. I soon realized that it was being helped back up by Professor Minerva McGonagall, looking at me through square spectacles. Though her body and face clearly showed the signs of great age, she nonetheless carried herself with strong composure, dressed in shimmering emerald robes that blended in well with the local plantlife.

"Professor McGonagall?" I asked weakly, and redundantly.

She gave a smile smile with her thin lips. "Oh good, you've still got some wits about you then."

Looking across the village threshold, I saw the patronus' all sweeping along the edges of the jungle in a line, seemingly driving away the last of the dementors. With threat finally taken care of, the wizards were helping the Na'vi to get back on their feet, many of them resorting to using their wands given the discrepancy in their sizes. A grizzled-looking man hobbled over to us, most of his hair missing, and a bizarre, electric-blue eye twitching frantically in his right eye socket. Approaching us, he stopped and said, "Minerva." with a bow of his head.

"How are things?" she asked with trepidation.

"No signs of the kiss," he said in a gruff voice. "A good number of the Na'vi are pretty shaken up, but it's nothing some sweets and a good night's rest won't fix."

"Thank goodness, " she said, placing a hand on her heart.

"Those affected are gathering over there," he said, pointing over toward a small campfire, many of the Na'vi huddled around it quietly. Nuapi was with them with two younger females, and together they were crushing something up in small bowls. . "Might as well get over there, Mr. Murphy," Alastair 'Mad-Eye' Moody said to me.

"Yeah, sure," I said absent-mindedly, wandering toward the flames. I saw Ciri sitting there as well, initially hidden behind some of the Na'vi. Moody had been restrained in his description, as 'shaken' was a tame word for what they had experienced. Many of them were still shivering vigorously, and since the cold had been dissipated with the departure of the dementors, then I can only assume it was because the terror was still so close to them. Most of them just stared vacantly at the flickering flames, focused on something that wasn't there. Ciri was a bit better off, which is to say that at least she wasn't on the brink of being completely catatonic.

I sat down beside her. "How are you doing?"

"Better...much better," Ciri said, sipping a cup of hot cocoa and holding a bowl of vanilla pudding.

"Lupin's time tested remedy," I said.

"Mmm," Ciri said as she swallowed a spoonful of pudding, "This is the best pudding I've ever had. Practically miraculous."

I nodded. "Yeah, that's the typical remedy for exposure to a dementor. Treats produce an immediate sensation of pleasure, usually tied to good memories. It really helps to drive away the bad feelings"

"Always nice to meet a muggle who knows a thing or two about magical remedies," said a voice from behind me. It was Madam Poppy Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. "Speaking of which, what can I get for you?"

My immediate reaction was to politely decline, until I remembered this was for medicinal reasons. "Oh, uh...hm...honestly, a good chocolate chip cookie would be great, if you have it"

With a careless wave of her wand, a cookie wider than my hand materialized in midair. "Make sure to eat it all," she said stiffly.

"You don't have to tell me twice," I said, grabbing the cookie eagerly and taking a bite. The effect was instant. It was the same kind of relief that comes from a stuffy nose being cleared, or your ears after a long flight, only far more intimate. Warmth spread through my every muscle, and I could actually, genuinely feel again: the texture of the cookie crumbs in my fingertips, the hot radiance of the fire, even the cool earth against my backside. I felt truly alive and myself for the first time in hours. "Thank you," I said to Madam Pomfrey after I swallowed the first bite.

"Nonsense," she said with a wave of her hand. "It's my medical duty. I just wish I could do more for them," she said, gesturing toward the Na'vi. "The poor dears. I don't think they've ever even dreamed of anything as awful as a dementor, let alone a swarm of them. Unfortunately, I don't know how to conjure their preferred sweets. They don't taste the same way we do, and none of our sweets seem to do the trick. Nuapi and her daughter are making some of the tribe's traditional treats: a kind of berry juice mixed with tree resin I think. Hopefully it'll be ready soon."

At that point, Brendan plopped himself down beside me so that I was sitting in between him and Ciri. When he took his seat, the Na'vi closest to us looked up for the first time, noticing him. The one nearest whispered, "Star singer."

"Eh?" Brendan asked, curiously.

"You," the Na'vi began timidly, looking at him with wonder, "You are the one who's voice shimmers like star light."

"I...Ah! Yes, of course," Brendan said. "A elbereth gilthoniel," he said, and even when spoken more casually, the words had a sublime quality. "It's an elvish hymn to Varda, the valar who made the stars."

The Na'vi looked up toward the sky, which compelled me to do the same. When I did, the clouds which had hung so ominously before had dissipated, revealing a night sky exploding with stellar radiance, un obstructed by any other astral bodies. Deep blues and violets spread out across the night, traversing the sky in inky mixtures highlighted by magnificent starlight. Under the heavenly spectacle, there was nothing left to hint that the village had been nearly swallowed by pure terror just moments before.

"And you," Madam Pomfrey said to Brendan, "You'll need something sweet to recover from that bout with the dementors. What can I get you? Chocolate? Treacle? Pudding?"

"Don't suppose you could conjure up a caramel frappuccino?" Brendan asked in pure jest. Nevertheless, Madam Pomfrey once more twisted her wand a few times in the air carelessly, and a tall cup filled with light brown liquid appeared in his hands, tipped with whipped cream dripping with caramel. "Oh!" Brendan said, amused and surprised, "Thank you."

"Just be sure to drink it all," she said, before turning around to check on something else.

"Oh no, how will I ever-" Brendan cut himself off by wrapping his lips around the straw and sucking pleasurably, causing Ciri, me, and even some of the Na'vi to laugh."Oh wow, that is good." he said, finishing his first sip.

Not long after, Nuapi and her daughter finished preparing their treat, and began handing up handfuls of the thick, viscous mixture to all those affected by the dementors. Within minutes, they were happily wagging their tails with their ears perked and the vibrant yellow light returned to their eyes.

With her round finished she sat beside us, though she still looked down on us by about two feet or so.. "I would offer you some swal," she said, pointing to the red-green syrup, "But I doubt you would enjoy it."

We all smiled with her. "We appreciate the offer," I said with a nod. "Thank you….for everything."

She lazily waved her hand. "I remember well the oath Benadu and I took those years ago by the Great Tree. It would bring great shame upon all Na'vi people to abandon it at the first sign of danger."

"We didn't mean to lead the dementors to you, or the...what were they called?" Ciri said, first to Nuapi, then to me.

"Nazgul. Ringwraiths," I said.

Ciri continued. "They ambushed us, and we didn't have any other options-"

"Calm yourself, child," Nuapi said, resting two of her large fingers on Ciri's shoulder. "We are only glad to stand against such terrible creatures."

"I'm afraid it's not over just yet," Brendan said gravely. "Neither the dementors nor the Nazgul can be destroyed entirely...and this defeat will mostly serve to anger Sauron even further. Sooner or later, his Eye will turn to the village."

"Let him come," Nuapi said, undeterred by Brendan's warning. "He has never faced the likes of the People before."

"If you want, we can have the Council send reinforcements to help strengthen the-" I began.

But Nuapi cut me off. "That will not be necessary...not yet at least. We will have to send the Ikran riders to patrol the jungle to ensure no more of this...this Sauron's forces trespass upon our land. If we believe that your aid is needed, we will call for it well ahead of time."

"Okay," I said with a nod.

"But now tell me, Patrick Murphy," she said, turning her eyes on me. "I have no reason to believe what those demons said about you, but they must have had some reason for pursuing you here. What did they want with you?"

I shrugged. "No idea. I have no clue why they would want to take me."

"I'm more concerned with how they knew we were in New York," Brendan said. "I highly doubt it's coincidence that they just happened to find us."

"Do you think someone told them?" Ciri asked.

"I don't see how," I said with a puzzled look. "Hell, we didn't even know that we'd be in New York until we got there, purely by accident."

"Maybe they have some way of...tracking you?" Brendan suggested.

"It's possible," Ciri said, "But if so, then it raises the question of why strike now...unless they've only just developed the ability to do so."

"And none of that answers the question of what they want with you in the first place," Brendan pointed out.

"Friends, friends," Nuapi said, holding out her hands, "Come now, do not worry yourselves too much with these questions. Tomorrow will bring its own troubles. Now is the time for rest."

"Yeah, you're right," I said with a small sigh. "Things just became a hell of a lot crazier all of a sudden."

"And you," she said, turning to Brendan. "Who are you, whose words are made of starlight?"

"I'm Brendan Anderson," he said with a casual smile. "And those weren't my words. Those were the words of the elves."

Nuapi smiled. "Ahh, yes, the elves are a wise and great people. They are our dear friends. Come, let me show you," she said, offering hands to Brendan and me (Ciri was left to get up on her own). She led us a little ways away from the campfire, around the edge of the Hometree and down a small dirt path. At one point, she crouched down so that she was roughly at eye level with us, but her eyes were turned down. "Look," she said, pointing toward the ground.

When we looked, we saw a humble sapling only about 3 feet tall. Overall, the tree heavily recalled a birch, though its bark was perfectly smooth and silvery grey. On top, the leaves were green, but underneath they were pure silver.

"Is that… a mallorn?" Brendan said, looking at the tree with amazement.

Smiling, Nuapi nodded. "It was a gift from the Lady of the Golden Wood, to stand as a symbol of the friendship between the Elves and the People. She gave to us a single nut of silver, which we planted with great care. In return, I called out to the All-Mother, and she blessed the Lady Galadriel and her people with seeds of the sacred tree. I knew then how precious the gift of the elves was, and how wise and good a people they must be."

Brendan swallowed before saying, "M-May I...touch…?"

"Only the bark," Nuapi said softly, "With gentle fingers,"

Following her directives, Brendan reached out slowly with his right hand toward the lower part of the bark below the fledgling branches. He visibly shuddered the second his finger tips made contact with the bark.

"How does it feel?" Ciri asked.

"It...it's like putting your finger to a vein...as if I can feel something rushing through it," he said, before smiling and laughing a few times. "A mallorn. An actual...living mallorn, that I am right now touching with my own hand!"

Nuapi looked at him with the prideful beam of a caring parent. "I see you Brendan Anderson," she said. "Friend of the elves and of the People. Star singer and light caller. When you speak the words of the elves, Eywa listens."

Brendan finally drew back his hand from the tree, trembling slightly before grasping it with the other. He looked down toward the ground, tears building in the corners of his closed eyes. "I...I…" Nuapi reached over and gently placed her hand on the side of his head. She brought his forehead to her own, and he put his hand on top of hers.

We stayed the night in the village, resting on bundles and nets of soft vines woven together with great skill by the Na'vi, almost like hammocks made of silk. Most of the wizards disapparated back to the city, but a few stayed behind just in case. The good night's sleep did wonders for us all, but for Ciri the most. Rejuvenated by the Elven hymn, the vanilla pudding, and the night's rest, the Elder Blood had regained its former power. That morning, she teleported Brendan, Kelpie, Pras, and me back to the city, just outside the stables.


	5. Chapter 5 - Preparations

**Chapter Five:**

Not long after we had all returned to the city, we were practically swarmed by numerous individuals pressing us for more information as to what happened the previous day. They were finally beaten back (purely metaphorically, that is) by Gandalf and the Doctor, this time in his 10th Incarnation bearing David Tennant's light stubble and wide-set eyes. They quickly shepherded us away from the curious throngs and to a small, quiet, and secluded room in some far corner of the palace to question us in relative peace. When we arrived, we saw that they had taken the liberty of bringing in Hope Upon seeing us enter, she immediately stood up and rushed over to me, looking me over like a mother who's just learned her child has had a terrible accident.

"How are you?" she asked frantically, feeling my forehead before placing two fingers to my wrist in order to check my pulse.

"It's okay Hope, I'm fine, really," I said, trying to reassure her to no avail.

She probed almost every inch of my body with her fingers, checking for signs of damage. Only once she could determine that I really was alright did she step back. "What happened?"

"Yeah, that's what I'd like to know as well," Ten said as he took a seat across from us, a small cup of hot tea sitting by him.

Brendan, Ciri and I all exchanged looks, but it soon became clear that I would be the one to tell the tale. I tried to be as concise as possible, and Gandalf, Ten, and Hope didn't interject. Gandalf, more so than the other two, was most disturbed to hear of the assault of the Nazgul. I could see his bony fingers grip his staff tightly every time they were mentioned by name. Ten sat and listened with his hands folded over his mouth, his eyes fixed on me unblinkingly as I spoke. Hope simply sat still and quiet.

When the story was over, the three of them looked at one another briefly before Ten said, "This'll be the second incursion the UA has faced since yesterday then."

"Second?" Brendan asked.

"Yeah," Ten said, "a battalion of daleks launched an attack at our outpost located in the abandoned space jockey wreck, about a hundred miles West of Manhattan. Wasn't nearly big enough to be part of a proper military campaign, more like a scout regiment...or something like that at least. Took several hours, but we were finally able to drive them off after I was able to convince the Timelords to send reinforcements...well, not me exactly. 3rd me. You know, with the curls, and the-"

"Yeah, got it," I said before the digression could continue much further.

"Which ones are the daleks again?" Ciri asked.

"Like a six foot tall trash can with an egg beater and a toilet plunger sticking out the front," I said.

Ciri giggled. "Hardly sounds very threatening."

I felt my heart tighten up as I looked toward Ten, who looked at Ciri in turn with a grim and stony face. "Any possible humor you might find in their appearance would be utterly obliterated if you were to encounter one for yourself. Your talking about a species that turned genocide into a cosmic plague, sweeping across vast spans of space and time and wiping out all life forms unlike themselves." He was practically snarling the last words.

Ciri looked away, the smile gone. "Sorry."

Ten relaxed. "Doesn't matter," he said, waving his hand. "What does matter is that we had two separate attacks within just a few hours of each other, the first of their kind in over a year. I'm not inclined to believe that that is purely by coincidence."

"Alright," I said, taking my thoughts slowly, "So we have these two attacks. What's the connection? Why would the daleks and the Nazgul be working together?"

"Daleks don't work with others," Ten said, his voice low and almost shaking, "It is fundamentally contrary to the primary nature of their existence."

"Tell me, Doctor," Gandalf said, "Do these creatures know fear?"

"It's one of the few things they do know," Ten said. "Daleks stripped themselves of almost all emotion save for anger, hatred….and yes, fear as well."

"Fear is the power of the Nazgul," Gandalf said. "It is theirs, as is light the power of the sun and stars. They command it; wield it, and all creatures that know fear are vulnerable to their will. These daleks may not, of their own accord, serve or aid others...but under the shadow and terror of the Nazgul, they may be broken."

"It's not unheard of for daleks to form alliances, " I pointed out, "they allied with half the universe to force the Doctor into the Pandorica."

"The what?" Ten asked.

"Sorry," I said quickly, "Spoilers and all that. But you're right, it's contrary to their nature. They only do so when forced to...so the question is, is the terror of the Nazgul enough to force them?"

"Even if it isn't," Gandalf said, "then the power of their master is...as is the power of his master before him. It is also the nature of the orc to pillage and destroy, not to serve, and yet the enemy can bend whole armies of them to his will."

"So the daleks are working with Sauron," I said. "To what end?"

"The Nazgul were looking for you, specifically," Ciri pointed out. "That was all they cared about."

"But why?" I asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hope said, all eyes turning to her. "Remember what I told you, Patrick? This is your world, and when you achieve moments of self actualization, you become connected to all that is here. You obtain absolute power."

"Are you….are you saying that they were trying to like...get to me in hopes of like, stealing my power?" I asked.

She nodded. "I can't personally think of anything they could do to tap into it, but I can't say that I know the full extent of what they're capable of. Even if they can't, I dare say that won't stop them from trying, and we certainly wouldn't want you in the clutches of either Sauron or the daleks,"she said, placing her hand on my back.

"Or maybe they wanted to kidnap you to remove you from the picture," Ciri said. "If they attacked the city, then you might have been able to stop them, maybe even single-handedly."

"The dementors!" Brendan called out, straightening up. "They would have given you to the dementors! Hope told us that Patrick can't be killed while here, but the dementors would be able to keep him in a state of perpetual depression, completely unable to achieve the mental state necessary to access those powers!"

"What about the dementors anyway?" Ciri asked, "where do they fit into all this?"

"They're just servants," I said. "Dementors are intelligent, but there are limits on their cognitive ability. They don't seem to have any designs beyond the almost-animalistic hunger for human joy. It only makes sense that they would flock to the side of the Nazgul - it's a match made in….well, not heaven, but you get the idea."

"What were the daleks doing then?" Brendan asked. "Were they looking for Patrick too?"

"Doubt it," Ten said. "In certain ways, the attack was very typical of a standard dalek assault. Dalek strategy mostly focuses on forcing the target to expose weak spots that can be overwhelmed by superior force. They weren't taking prisoners, they weren't looking for anything…

"And yet, all in all, it was a rather small attack," he added, getting up and pacing briskly around the room.. "The total number of daleks was probably less than 50,000, and they were uncharacteristically quick to retreat. Normally, they never attack with less than 500,000 at the very least, and don't stop fighting until the last dalek is destroyed, unless the survival of the species is at risk," as he finished, he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Perhaps," Gandalf said, "The attack was merely a distraction, meant to draw the attention of the Universal Alliance while the Nazgul combed the jungle in search of Patrick?"

"Possibly," Ten said, nodding. "If so, it is a dangerously coordinated move...and if Sauron is working with the daleks, then we can't rule out the possibility that others are working with them as well. Any number of the known hostile elements could be a part of this."

"Remind me," Ciri said, "when was the last major attack against UA territory?"

"Last year, September, " Ten said. "King Ghidorah attacked Chicago. Why?"

"I was wondering if there was any connection between the two," Ciri asked.

"Doubt it," I said with a snicker, "Giant, three-headed, lightning-spewing space dragons aren't exactly team players."

"If so," Ciri said, "then this represents the first known activity of this new alliance between daleks and Sauron."

Gandalf nodded and said, "And there's no way of knowing how far back the alliance goes...how long they've been plotting."

"We're going to have to call an emergency Council meeting," Ten said. "There's nothing else for it. This is bad...I mean bad, I mean several star system's worth of bad, and that's just for starters."

"Wait," Brendan said, drawing all eyes to him. "There's one other...the Nazgul found us...so it's possible that they knew Patrick had left the city." Ten and Gandalf exchanged looks. "I don't know about Patrick, but I didn't go around blabbing to everyone about my plans for the weekend. How did they know Patrick was out in the jungle?"

The realization hit all of us. Ciri gasped. Ten's eyebrows nearly rose to the top of his forehead. Gandalf stood up. From behind his bushells of grey beard, he said, "You suspect someone on the inside?"

Brendan cocked his head to one side. "Kinda hard not to come to that conclusion. I mean, we could be bugged, but even then, the bugs would have to come from someone we have regular interaction with, someone who knew our schedules."

All of us glanced briefly at the door, as if the sudden suggestion of an informant conjured up an image of a weasley sneak on the other side, listening in with an empty class held to his ear. Realizing the folly of a thought, and remembering that we were almost certainly safe at that moment, we all relaxed. Hope spoke next. "All of you - who did you tell about your trip out into the forest today?"

I went first. "A few folks at work...Darren Naish, Mark Witton, Liz Martin-Silverstone...uh, Tom Holtz..Victoria Arbour...I think that's about it."

"Same with me, just a few people at work," Brendan said. "Maurice, uh...Bilbo…"

Ciri said, "I had to tell Geralt, Triss, and Dandelion because I was planning on meeting up with them when we got back...of course that never happened."

I furrowed my brow. "I...I can't imagine why any one of them would sell us out like that. Not one of them strikes me as an especially malicious or even selfish person."

"Yeah, you'd be surprised how little it can take to pay someone off for information," Ten said, looking to his side.

"Alternatively," Gandalf said, "they may have provided the information unwittingly...Sauron is well-known for his many spies, and for the many forms they take."

"Okay, okay," I said, getting slightly lost by all the different tangents. "To recap - Sauron is working with the daleks, and maybe with others as well. They're trying to get to me, and they have some kind of informants working for them here in the city, possibly even here in the palace, that about sum everything up?"

"It would seem so," Gandalf said.

I looked from him to Ten, then to Hope, and then to Ciri and Brendan. "What do we think they'll do next?"

Ten and Gandalf looked at one another, knowing that they other was the key to understanding their respective foes. Gandalf said, "It's no wonder that the Nazgul found you. The Nazgul are slaves to power, drawn to it like a moth to candle light. Ordinarily, it is the power of the Ruling Ring that draws them, but if yours is truly the greatest power in this world, then it stands to reason that they would seek you out. But the Nazgul failed...and so they'll be forced to return to their Master, to suffer his wrath at their failure before he decides his next move…

"Let none of us ever forget that of all Sauron's many powers, non are as potent as his cunning. Secrecy was Sauron's hope in this attack - a serpent that strikes from the shadows and delivers a lethal bite. Instead, the attack has failed, and the serpent has exposed itself."

"What will he do next?" I asked again.

"Sauron attacked in secret because he fears he does not have the strength to attack the City of the Universal Alliance. If he believed he could overwhelm us, then he would have marched on us directly. He will discern our ability to decipher the meaning behind this first strike, certainly he will not risk the chance that we will figure that out."

"If you think he plans to strike," Ten said, "then the daleks will follow his command. It is Sauron who has forced their hand, not the other way around. I can just about believe that daleks would be forced into an alliance - I can't believe that they would seek one out on their own."

"Then we must act quickly," Gandalf said, leaning on his staff as he rose to his feet. "Summon the Council with all haste. Sauron moves against us - we must gather all of our allied forces, and search through our existing archives of information for any other clues"

"Alons-y" Ten said in a low voice as he and Gandalf strode out of the room, leaving me with Hope, Ciri, and Brendan.

When they were both well out of hearshot, I turned to the others and said, "Shit just keeps getting crazier and crazier…"

Hope said, "Do you really think an attack is coming?"

I shrugged, "I don't know, probably."

"What will you do?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said with a smile and a chuckle, doing best to hide the growing sensation of dread growing in my gut. "If they evacuate, I'll evacuate, if they want to send everyone into a shelter or something, I'll do that." She gave me a confused look, which I returned as I said, "What? Do I look like a soldier to you? In the four years this universe as been in existence, I've never even touched a weapon!"

"But Patrick," she said, "You have tremendous power! Absolute omnipotence, nothing would be able to stand against you if-"

I interjected, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe you told me that I can only obtain said power if I attain a 'moment of self actualization.' By your own admission, said moments are very difficult to achieve."

"And yet you did achieve one," she retorted, leaning forward, "at least once. If it you did it once, you can do it again."

I shook my head. "Not a chance I'm willing to take. Besides, there's no need. We've got the Timelords, the Asteromorphs, the Avengers, the Justice League, and more all on our side. Omnipotence just isn't necessary."

Hope leaned back in her seat. "I hope you're right...what about you two?"

Ciri said, "Neither daleks nor Sauron have ever had to face off against a Child of the Elder Blood - let alone one who was trained as a witcher. I'm not afraid of them"

"And you?" Hope asked, looking at Brendan.

He paused before speaking. "I...hmm…"

I could understand his hesitation. Much like myself, Brendan was, in many ways, a typical upper-middle class, white, suburban kid who'd spent a good deal of his life quietly contemplating life from a place of great security. Neither one of us had ever dreamed we'd find ourselves in a situation like this, and both of us went to great lengths to avoid conflict in our lives. Does that make us cowards? Maybe...though I would at least like to think that many others would feel just as uncertain and anxious in his position. At least I had the excuse of being useless in a fight. Having spent the last four years training with Geralt, Brendan could claim no such loophole.

"Well why not?" Ciri asked. "You handled yourself well enough against those ants, and that was four years ago."

"True…" Brendan said,stroking his beard and looking down at the table.

I decided to step in on his behalf. "Can't imagine swords would be much use against daleks, right?"

"Right, good point," Brendan said, clearly trying not to sound enthused that I had provided a solid reason for him to refrain from combat.

"If I didn't know any better," Ciri said, cleary not falling for any of this, "I'd say you don't want to fight."

Brendan and I exchanged looks, but neither of us dared look Ciri in the eye. I sighed. "Look Ciri," I said, "Brendan and I aren't fighters. We're generally both very peaceful, we don't like conflict. We both grew up very sheltered from things like warfare and combat. It's just…it's not in us. The ants were a surprise - it's not as if we sought them out. They found us. We can defend ourselves if we need to...or, Brendan can at least….but we're not fighters."

"Nobody's born a fighter." Ciri said, looking stern at both of us, "and few of us have the luxury of choosing to be." Clearly, we'd hit a soft spot. Ciri had known slaughter from a young age, and resented our ignorance. "You I can understand," she said, gesturing to me. "You're all but useless in a fight." I'd said so myself, and yet it hurt so much more when she said it. "But Brendan," she said, turning to him, "you have a weapon, and you know how to use it. I've heard you go on and on about how you are inspired by those who fight for what's right. But what's all that inspiration worth if - when the time to fight for what's right actually comes - you do nothing?"

Brendan said nothing for a while. It looked as though he had stopped breathing, and the edges of his eyes began to glisten. "I...I never dreamed I'd ever be in this position," he said in a croaking voice. "But you're right. I have no excuse not to fight. I'm fully capable...and if Sauron and the daleks do attack the City, then I know it's the right thing to defend it, it's just...I'm afraid…."

Ciri reached out and put her hand on his, which was resting on his lap. "I know," she said gently, "Geralt says it's good to be afraid. If you're afraid, it means you're aware that there's danger. You just have to stand up to that fear. Own it. Move past it."

He turned his hand over to grip hers, looking her eye to eye at last. "It'd be a lot easier to fight...if I knew I didn't have to do it alone."

She smiled. "I'll be there of course, you silly sausage," she said. "And it'll hardly just be the two of us."

"I know, it's just….god, it's just so...so intense when it's just us that know about it, for now anyway…" he said, breathing heavily.

"We're not about to go into battle this afternoon," she said, ruffling his hair, making him smile."There'll be time to prepare."

Brendan's chest kept rising and falling with each quivering breath, and he nodded.

Seeing them so close together...I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me envious. It looked as if she was moments away from kissing him on the cheek. I was jealous of Brendan for that...but I'm not entirely sure why. I loved Ciri (still do), but I'd never really been attracted to her in a romantic or sexual way. Hard to say why exactly since she is exceptionally attractive by whichever metric you choose- physically, mentally, emotionally, personality-wise. But I never felt that sense of longing that I have felt for many other women I've known, as well as a few men. Perhaps it was because they had something that I had excluded myself from, leaving me outside the group, and that's a feeling I could never stand. I hate to feel alone, abandoned.

Scratching my thigh to appear as if it wasn't having any clear effect, I sighed and said, "I...maybe I can see if there is something I can contribute after all."

"It is your world," Brendan said, turning to me. "There's gotta be something. Maybe some extra clue or hint that Gandalf and the Doctor couldn't pick up on?"

I shrugged. "We'll see"

I watched him approach the microphone, his footsteps thudding loudly against the floor of the raised platform. His huge gut sagged over the front of his waistline, and nearly every inch of his body jiggled with generous layers of fat. His bald head and squinting eyes only contributed to the perception of him as a shaved, bipedal pig. But no matter what anyone wanted to say, Sigismund Dijkstra was just as human as you or me. In the time before the formation of this World, he had been the head of Redanian Intelligence, at least before being chased out of the position by his former lover after she sent assassins after him. In time, he rose to provenance as one of the Big Four crime bosses of Novigrad, under the pseudonym of Sigi Reuven.

Dijkstra didn't look like a spy. Spies are inconspicuous: short, thin, quiet, in many ways immaterial. Instead, Dijkstra was almost 7 feet tall, positively corpulent, and dressed in flamboyant colors and accessories. His voice was every bit as boisterous as his appearance. Yet Dijkstra possessed a keen understanding of human nature, and a subtle cunning which rarely showed itself. He proved his talents as a spy-master in Sapkowski's Witcher series, as well as the third game. That's why I suggested to the Council that he lead the Intelligence Division.

Dijkstra pointed to the huge screen showing two images. One of them was of an enormous contraption coated in tall metallic plates and covered with balls. They ran in a ring around a central tower, at the top of which were two lights and an eyestalk. The lense at the end of the stalk glowed pale blue. At the bottom of the tower was a glass jar containing a small, loathsome creature. It was composed entirely of a large brain, which was either completely exposed or else covered in skin so thin it was translucent. Beneath the brain was a single eye, from which grew several thick, cephalopodan arms. The other image was much simpler, showing a pure black canvas with fiery red lines formed into the shape of a single, evil-looking eye.

"This one here," Dijkstra said, "is the dalek emperor. Of all the dalek breeds and castes - and believe me, there are many - this is the most powerful. It's capable of commanding the loyalty and obedience of all other dalek units.

"We were lucky at first. For the first two years, the Emperor had yet to make itself known, perhaps lost in the folds of space. Without him, the daleks were overcome with their infatuation with racial, genetic purity, with several small conflicts being waged between different dalek factions. But the Emperor put a stop to that: it united all the different daleks under its command. Since then, the dalek base of operations has centered on this island."

A map appeared on screen showing a single gigantic continent surrounded by a global ocean. It was, in fact, the supercontinent of Pangaea, which had lasted from 250 to 200 million years ago, from the Permian all the way through the Triassic Period. The focus of the image zoomed into an island sitting in the middle of a wilde gulf to the North of us.

"Soon afterwards, the daleks launched an attack on this Insectoid aerial colony, followed up by another attack on the city of Metropolis," Dijkstra said as the map showed two marks, signifying a linear progression out from the island. "But after being driven away by the Second and Ninth Doctors working with Superman, the daleks ceased their military campaigns."

"Now this is the really tricky one," Dijkstra said, pointing to the image of the eye. "Trying to predict Sauron's actions has been like trying to predict the behavior of a eunuch in a brothel, if you'll excuse the comparison. We haven't even been able to get a good idea of what he looks like. Here's what we do know:

"Many of our allies have reported sightings and even visitations from this one-" Dijkstra pointed to the screen as two more images appeared beneath Sauron's. One was of an ivory-skinned, black-haired beauty, and beside it was hideous beast with the head and wings of a giant bat growing out of the naked torso of a young woman. "Thuringwethil: Self-Described Mistress of Vampires and Sauron's herald. Some of our more senior Council members may recognize her. She came to the Tree in the first days of this World in a pitiful attempt to deliver us al to Sauron. Luckily for us, our good friend Gandalf showed us - and her - the light," he continued in that sneering voice that perfectly straddled the line between earnestness and sarcasm.

"The main point is that Sauron's been actively recruiting for a long time now, essentially since the World's inception. There's no way of knowing how large his forces have grown, which brings us to the really troubling part-" Dijkstra said, motioning with his hand for the image on the screen behind him to change. It complied, switching to a multicolored version of the previously-seen map of the world. "Intelligence reports show that Sauron's Fortress of Barad-dur is located here in the South, but there's a total black out in satellite imaging over that entire area, which is why we have no idea of how large his total forces have grown, forcing us to speculate. Luckily, I just so happen to be very good at that." He actually managed to earn a chuckle or two from the crowd.

"Historical precedent shows us that Sauron and his Master Morgoth - whom we theorize is also present, but has yet to be verified - have traditionally commanded legions of orcs of various breeds, trolls, balrogs, dragons, vampires, werewolves, and certain groups of humans." As Dijkstra spoke, images flashed on screen of each of the respective creatures. "We also know from eyewitness accounts that Sauron's chief lieutenants - the ringwraiths - are at work under his command, and an entire horde of dementors is operating under their authority. That comprises all of what we know about Sauron's forces, as well as what we can be reasonably certain of.

"But if our suspicions are correct, and Sauron has successfully coerced the daleks into working on his behalf, then we must also be open to the possibility that Sauron has recruited other beings which he has had no prior affiliation with to his side - which brings us to what I oh-so-cleverly decided to call the OSL," as he spoke, the image changed showing various portraits spread out along a line punctuated by four points.

"Respected members of the council, I give you - the Official Shit-List." Dijkstra's cheek earned just as many laughs as it did disapproving signs. "More seriously put, it's a comprehensive database of all the known hostile elements ether observed by UA affiliates, or else provided by Mr. Murphy." He actually turned toward me and nodded once. "They're organized along a spectrum, starting with those individuals and groups that pose the least threat to those that pose the greatest threat, calculated by measuring their ability to affect change and comparing it to their desire to cause harm. As both Sauron and the Daleks register on the very farthest extreme of the spectrum, I've analyzed all of the other individuals and groups that pose a similar threat. It seems most likely that Sauron would gather similarly destructive forces to his banner, and it even raises the possibility that Sauron and his allies have also been coerced into service by an as yet unidentified agent. I will now go over several of the most dangerous agents that we know of."

The first image that the screen zoomed in on elicited many frightened jeers and boos from the crowd. They instantly recognized the single red eye staring back at everyone in the Assembly Hall, as ir peering through the screen to examine us all with frigid calculation, the way a spider examines a fly. It wasn't truly an eye, at least not in the same sense as ours. It was a lense that blazed with crimson light, sitting toward the top of a silver sphere. Though perfectly round, the chrome of its hull was dented and dirty, clearly strong enough to withstand eons of cosmic weathering. The eye sat at the intersection of three lines, dividing the structure into thirds. It floated above an otherworldly landscape filled with crumbling towers and aged spires.

"As is already quite clear, those from the First Galactic Empire have experience enough with our first entry, the Gravital. All the more ironic seeing as how all of them harbor a shared history. Nonetheless, the gravital's ancestors diverged from their brethren millions of years ago, and as their society developed ever greater forms of technology, they traded their biological existence for a cybernetic one, which granted them freedom to explore and experiment in ways their ancestors could scarcely have dreamed. That's how they were able to develop their most devastating weapon of all: the ability to manipulate gravity - with a thought. The gravital are every bit as powerful as the daleks and just as ruthless. Still, they're not the only enemies of the Second Galactic Empire. That would be these charming creatures:"

The image of the Gravital flickered into that of an odd looking-creature floating in the foreground with a gigantic black pyramid far behind it. Its two black eyes were set on long stalks sticking out horizontally from its skull, which had no mouth save for a pair of ant-like pincers. The body was small, and possessed four limbs that each ended in two finger-like projections connected by a translucent membrane. From its posterior grew a single, long, prehensile tentacle wrapped around some kind of device. It fit comfortably in the creature's appendage, but its build was utterly foreign to me: with several long prongs and mushroom-shaped levers. Once more, the members of the Second Galactic Empire jeered the sight of the creature.

"Now, now, settle down. If we took the time to voice our displeasure at all these entities, we'd be here for years," they agreed, and the crowd grew quiet again. "As I was saying, these are the Qu: masters of genetic and nanotechnological manipulation. These galactic nomads are driven by a zealous religious outlook that places them as the masters of all life, giving them the right to change or exterminate other life forms as they see fit. The find being such as us to inherently inferior, and view our technological accomplishments as an affront to their place in the cosmos. If there are any doubts about their ability to wreak havoc, just remember that the meddling of the Qu is what eventually led to all the evolution of all members of the Second Galactic Empire."

"It's true!" one of the Pterosapiens shouted from his perch, not waiting to be acknowledged by the rest of the Council. "It was only after countless millions of years of repression, extinction and adaptive radiation that we were able to recover our sapience...and we were the lucky ones. Billions of our human ancestors lost their lives, and billions more remained trapped within feral minds." As he spoke, his neck was bent down over a heavily hunched back, and he flapped his wings several times in agitation.

'"Moving on," Dijkstra said, motioning for the next image to appear. This time it was of two perfectly humanoid figures wearing red robes with golden plates over their shoulders. One of them was wearing a mask of the same golden material, bearing a black face composed of long holes were the eyes and mouth should have been. The figure next to him was unmasked, and looked more or less like a typical white man with brown hair, though his expression was alarmingly cruel.

When I saw them, I looked instantly toward the Doctors. Half of them were looking away from the screen, the others were forcing themselves to look unblinkingly at the screen, even as water pooled in the corners of their eyes.

"We've had largely peaceful dealings with the Timelords," Dijkstra said, waving his arm toward the Doctor, "But no tree is without its bad apples, and when it comes to Timelords, they don't come any worse than these two. Omega-" he said pointing to the masked one, "-and Rassilon," and he pointed to the other. "The ancient founders of Timelord society, they conducted experiments that suspended a dying star in the process of collapsing into a black hole, thus providing the energy necessary to fuel time travel. These same experiments trapped Omega in an antimatter universe completely devoid of any other life. Driven mad by isolation, he harbors near-total resentment to all other living beings, and in his own words, declared the destruction of reality,' quite a spectacle.' The nature of his antimatter prison completely eroded away his physical form, which is why he uses this mask to give himself a visible form to others.

"Rassilon fared little better at home. His brilliance led to the creation of technology that put the Timelords at the very top of the universal hierarchy. This granted the status of a god among gods, and such power is a dangerous thing even in the hands of the most. In fact, in my own experience, it's exactly those most noble among us who are the most dangerous when they come into power. In Rassilon's case, it was the Last Great Time War between the Timelords and the daleks that drove him to desperate and perilous solutions to avoid destruction. He was willing - and fully capable - of ripping apart the very fabric of time itself to end the war"

Dijkstra went over several other of these 'Big Bads, highlighting their destructive capabilities as well as their modus operandi. There was The Mad Titan, Thanos: the purple-skinned hulk fully adorned in golden armor, wielding his greatest weapon. Upon his left hand he bore the Infinity Gauntlet; powerful enough to channel the power of the Infinity Stones, of which he had already collected one: the Soul Stone. Formidable as he was, he had whole legions at his command, willing to charge rabidly into the line of fire at the slightest word from their master.

Very similar to Thanos was his primary inspiration, Darkseid. Another hugely muscled humanoid, Darkseid's skin was slate grey, and his eyes blazed red. Unlike Thanos and his infatuation with death, Darkseid sought only order, which he worked to achieve by acquiring the anti-life equation. This forbidden secret would give him the knowledge to rewrite the universe as he saw fit. Though he had yet to obtain this particular eldritch arcana, he still had all the forces of the planet Apokolips at his disposal.

From Lord Voldemort to the T1000; from the Harvesters to the White Walkers; from Grendel to Rodan, the list kept growing and growing. With it grew a dawning sense of just how serious the situation was. I had always trusted in the combined knowledge and strength of the UA, little realizing the horrifying might that would materialize if our enemies decided to join forces in a similar way. For a long time, we'd all been acting on what Dijkstra referred to as the 'small door' principle. Namely, that with all these entities vying for dominance with each other, none of them could make any progress. He used the analogy of all them trying to squeeze through a small doorway at the same time:the more they struggled against each other, the more stuck in place they'd become. It's not that we couldn't necessarily predict that they might realize the futility of such a conflict, and band together to defeat their mutual adversary (namely, us). It's just that we were hoping their not-insubstantial vanity and egos would prevent them from coming to such an arrangement.

When Dijkstra was finished, Twelve got up and took his place at the microphone. "Thank you Master Dijkstra. Now that we are all...keenly aware of the potential threats, it's up to us to decide the best way to respond to the threat." As one of the trees lit up from within the darkness of the crowd, the Doctor said, "The Council recognizes Chancellor Ome of the United Symbiote Federation."

The naked black being rose to speak, though that isn't quite the right word for it. The puppeteer parasite directed his host to gesture in synch with the odors he used to communicate. "How certain are we that an attack is looming? That such a conglomeration of threats is out there is one thing, but that doesn't necessarily mean that they're planning an attack any time soon. It could be months, maybe even years before they'd be ready to launch a full assault."

Gandalf got up to speak. "Trust me when I say that we do not have the luxury of either years or months. The enemy will attack soon, within weeks at the latest. In his failure to secure Patrick Murphy as a prisoner, Sauron has revealed himself to us sooner than he had wished. We would be fools to waste this great fortune. Sauron will be forced to strike quickly at the expense of strength, which gives us an advantage so long as we take it. He will not risk giving us the chance to build up our defenses anymore than we can."

A general murmur of agreement swept through the audience,and Chancellor Ome said no more. The next to speak was Nova Prime of the planet Xandar. "I say we launch a preemptive strike on Sauron's fortress. Take off the head of the snake before it can strike again. Long range missiles or energy-based orbital weapons could eliminate him as a threat in a heartbeat."

Many in the audience showed vocal support for this plan, but Twelve shook his head. "Won't do any good. Three years ago, before the Xandarians joined the Universal Council, Sauron sent a small scout of wargs and werewolves to assault the Hobbits. The Council passed a resolution to fire a warning shot at the Black Gate from orbit, but the blast was completely ineffective. Until now, we've never been sure as to how Sauron repelled the strike; whether it was some new device of his own, or else appropriated technology from some other species. We can now safely assume that the daleks provided him with the technology to defend against long range attacks."

Aragorn said, "And we dare not organize a legion of soldiers with so little knowledge of the enemy's true forces. The best course is to use all of our strength to fortify the existing garrisons as well as the city."

"What about those who can't fight?" Vurkina of the Satyriacs asked, "The children? The elderly?"

The sorceress, Philippa Eilhart - representing the interests of all magic-users - answered, "We can open portals that will evacuate those who cannot fight to designated safe zones, though the Council will have to choose such locations first."

"We can't know which places will be safe until we understand Sauron's strategy," Dijkstra said in an unusually hostile tone toward Philippa. Despite the aggressiveness of Dijkstra's voice, Philippa actually half-smiled at him, which he responded to with a sour grimace.

Sensing the tension, Twelve stepped in between Dijkstra and the microphone. "True as that may be, opening portals to safe zones is probably the best idea. Philippa, would you station certain mages across our various outposts and outlying territories, ready to open a portal the instant we know Sauron's plan?"

"Of course Doctor," she said with a courteous bow of her head.

"Very good," Twelve said. "Now, I think we should review our armed forces. All agreed?" Every tree in the room lit up. "Good. If the commanders of our armed forces would please approach the platform?"

Three figures arose from their seats in the front row as the platform lowered itself to meet them. One of them was an older female yautja with a jagged scar running across the right side of her face in the shape of lightning bolt. Almost half of the tendrils on her head looked like they'd been forcibly pulled out, leaving scabbed-over spots all across the crown of her skull. A talon-shaped symbol was burned into her chest armor, and she supported herself with her spear like a walking stick. The second was a female pterosapiens wearing a vest coated in numerous jewels that all each glowed from a different point on the rainbow. She wore a hat that spread out like the tail of a peacock on top, and there were many holes puncturing her patagium.

When they stepped onto the platform, it rose back up to its full height so all could see. The Doctor leaned into the microphone and said, "General Ju'mon, commander of all of our army and all additional ground forces."

She let out a low series of clicks as she spoke in the deep, gargling voice typical of her species. "The current total of enlisted troops stands at 11,275,668 as of the beginning of the month, though this doesn't count the assistance of certain individuals who - though have not formally pledged service to the city and the Universal Alliance - are almost certain to fight alongside us."

"Commander, I can promise that if Sauron's forces so much as step on a daisy within UA territory, the Justice League will fight against him," a voice called out. It was too dark to see, but the voice that spoke called to mind a broad-shouldered man with strong jawline and black hair growing to the side of his forehead in a wavy coif. The figure was dressed in a blue bodysuit with red tights, cape, and boots reminiscent of an early 20th century wrestler. Representing the planet Krypton and its people was Kal-el, more commonly known to friends and enemies alike as Superman.

General Ju'mon nodded toward him, putting her left fist over her chest. "What of the Avengers? Will they join us if such a battle breaks out within our borders?"

The only member of the Avengers sitting in the Assembly Hall was King T'Challa of Wakanda, holder of the title of Black Panther. He paused before answering her. "I cannot speak on behalf of the Avengers. My association with them is limited. But if I know anything about the Avengers, then they will not hesitate to join the fight against Sauron."

"I hope you're right," Ju'mon said. "Your tribe would make a formidable unit. And I thank you, Your Highness, for the vibranium you've supplied that has created the armor that shields many of our troops from attack."

"What about weapons?" Empress Xyrala of the Ice Warriors asked.

"We have been forced to implement a strategy that utilizes several different types of weaponry: everything from the most advanced, powerful energy-based artillery to primitive melee arms. This is because many of our enemies have developed shield technology that neutralizes physical projectiles such as bullets, as well as most kinds of energy. Strange as it may seem, iron swords, spears, and other manual weapons are the most effective means of overcoming these sophisticated forms of defense. Luckily, due to the diverse nature of the Universal Alliance, there are hundreds of thousands of warriors who specialize in the use of these ancient devices."

"This is fair news," Theoden of Rohan said. "My men are strong and valiant, but these weapons of fire and light feel to alike to the devices of the enemy in their hands. But give them a sword, and they'll cut down any foe foolish enough to stand against them." A chorus of approving grunts rang through the Hall among the less technologically developed people.

The matriarch of the Brontosapiens shifted as she lifted her neck upward to speak. "Ideally, we would be able to repel the forces of this Sauron without need to exchange blows. What is the state of our defense and fortification?"

King T'Challa answered her. "All of our outposts and garrisons are equipped with the same energy-barrier-generating technology that protects my city. My sister has seen to their development personally. Each one is capable of withstanding over 7500 Megatons."

"Which reminds me," Philippa said, turning to T'Challa, "Your sister reached out to me several weeks ago about the possibility of augmenting the capabilities of these barriers with magic. Apparently, she can increase their resistance 12 fold by channeling magical energies through the energy matrix."

"Excellent," Twelve said, "Even the most devastating weapons of the daleks wouldn't be able to break through a defense that strong without wiping out everything else in the universe as well."

The Sapieosaur, Prince Pahpan, said, "What is the status on Project Nattereri?"

"The project was completed on October 22 of this year. The micro-droid count stands at 18 quintillion," Twelve said.

"If I may," Ambassador Janax of the Silurians said, "While all of these stratagems are perfectly sound and reasonable, I note that there is another option that has yet been considered, one that would completely negate the threat presented by Sauron, the daleks, or any other potential hostiles. Namely, that Ms. Vernor returns us all to our home worlds as soon as possible!"

A rabble of agitated voices rose rapidly in the Assembly Hall as Janax's suggestion became the obvious solution to the current predicament. Hope got up from her seat next to me and approached the microphone. "That would go against the agreement we made to Patrick. He still has several months before-"

"Do you honestly believe that the prospect of war changes nothing? We came to that agreement - one that I voted against, might I add - during a time of peace. There was no immediate threat to consider, but those days are long gone. You would risk the lives of millions - of billions - just to satisfy the fancies of one boy?" Janax said, slamming her open palms down on the table and standing up? The roars of the crowd were fully behind her.

I felt a cold weight pulling at the bottom of my heart. I began to breathe heavily as I sensed the growing resentment in the Assembly Hall. In a sudden, desperate fit to placate the audience, I leaned forward to Hope and said, "Please, Hope, I don't want things to turn ugly. There's no way that I could be happy here if I knew that I was indirectly forcing everyone into a war, especially one this big!"

She looked at me hard, as if considering the options critically. She had a hard face with eyes that had a kind of frightening despondence to them, as if she was aware that ending the world and sending us all home was the most sensible thing to do by far, but this same awareness conflicted with a surreal determination to keep things as they were. Finally, she turned back to the audience and said, "My ultimate goal remains the same: to provide Patrick with the chance to experience things we would otherwise never get the chance to. I will keep to that goal for as long as it is viable. However-" she said quickly and loudly as the first few jeers were hurled at her, "should our defenses fail, and Sauron and his forces make it into any one of our garrisons, then I will undo this world, and return everyone and everything to wherever they originally came from in time and space."

The crowd lowered its flailing and yelling to a dull murmur. Janax sat back down with her arms folded. "It still seems like a needless delay...but so be it. I'll want that in writing though, and I want to be involved in drafting the resolution."

"Very well," Twelve said, "Now, let's go over our air force."

Ju'mon stepped back and the pterosapiens stepped forward. She spread her wings, revealing a complex pattern of tattoos covering her patagium. "I am Admiral Shun-lak, commander of the Universal Alliance's Air Force and Defense. The armada stands at a total of 793,622 ships, with an additional 322, 551 aerial troops currently enlisted. Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen has also pledged her three fully-grown dragons to service in the Air Force should the need arise," he said, nodding in Daenerys' direction.

"There is one other matter that must be discussed before this Council can be dismissed," Dijkstra said, taking his place next to Twelve by the microphone. "When the Tenth Doctor and Gandalf listened to Patrick's story, it gave all of them reason to believe that someone here in the city, most likely someone closely associated with the Universal Council, has been feeding information to Sauron." The roar that erupted from the Council was so intense, I was certain it would start a riot. But Dijkstra wouldn't let them stop him from making his point. "Settle down, settle down!" he said like an old school master reigning in an unruly class. "We'll not have this devolve into a riotous mob. Yes, it's true. Someone knew Patrick and his friends were riding Southeast from the City on that day, and passed that information onto Sauron. Sauron strategically placed the Nazgul throughout the area in hopes of intercepting Patrick, and it is nothing short of spectacular fortune that caused the plan to fail."

"Who is the traitor?" snarled Mahk'ta.

"If we knew who it was, I would have just stated their name outright," Dijkstra said with hs usual tactless scorn, "So far, we haven't a sodding clue who it is, having only just learned about them last night. But I swear to you now - I will find this treasonous whoreson, wherever they are. Nothing escapes Sigismund Dijkstra, and when I do find the bastard, I'm gonna hammer red hot iron nails right into their fingertips and peel back their eyelids so can I pour liquid nitrogen straight on their corneas. Then I'll squeeze the-"

"Master Dijkstra!" Gandalf said, pounding his staff once on the platform. "Torture is the path of the Enemy. We do not stand such passion for pain,"

Dijkstra bowed his head and put his hands together, though he retained a self-satisfied smile. "Forgive me, Gandalf. I speak only out of fervor for my duty."

Twelve stepped in. "Dijkstra's...enthusiasm aside, determining who the spy - or spies - are is of the utmost importance. Right now, Sauron has a far better understanding of our forces than we do of his., and that's not an advantage we can afford for him to have."

"How are we supposed to find the spy?" Theoden asked.

Dijkstra said "I'll start by monitoring all lines of communication in and out of the city. Every phone call, text message, letter, email, video call, telegraph, matter transport, holographic projection, and bloody carrier pigeon will have to go through me before it leaves this city."

"Now, now, Sigismund," Philippa said with perfectly-feigned innocence, "You're forgetting about magical methods of communication as well. How will you be able to monitor morphotic and astral projections, telepathy, legilimency, owl mail, floo powder, teleportation, and portal generation? Unless of course you wanted my help...",

Looking at Dijkstra's ever-reddening face, I had a feeling that, given a choice, he'd have deigned to respond with something along the lines of, "I WOULDN'T TAKE ANYTHING FROM YOU IF YOURS WAS THE LAST CUNT I COULD SHOVE MY COCK INTO!" Instead, he had just enough control over himself to say, "You're help...Mistress Eilhart...would be much appreciated," in a low, furious tone.

"Wonderful," Philippa said, clearly taking significant delight in filling Dijkstra with unbridled fury, though retaining a much calmer and more dignified composure. "Perhaps we can meet together some time to discuss how best to adapt the Intelligence Division to the challenges of monitoring magically-facilitated communication."

I honestly don't know how Dijkstra did it. It looked as if both of his testacles were about to burst, and yet he refrained from unleashing his wrath on Philippa. His lips puckered for a moment, and a vein pulsed in his temple, but all he said was, "Sure."

Before either one of them could say anything else, Twelve stepped in between Dijkstra and the microphone and said, "Perhaps we should move on…"

By the end of the meeting, the Council had decided on the best way to distribute the armed forces across the 43 different outposts dotting the borders of the territory overseen by the Universal Alliance. The largest battalion was stationed at the city, the rest were evenly split among the remaining outposts. The very last concern of the meeting was to create the resolution obliging Hope to return everything back to the way it was before she created the world, negating any potential effect that Sauron might have on anyone. Once her signature was on it, the meeting was adjourned.

Twelve came up to me, and in a course whisper, he asked, "What the ruddy hell is up between Dijkstra and Eilhart?"

"Oh nothing much really," I said nonchalantly, "She just sent assassins after him after they'd spent quite some time...working very closely with one another."

"Oh dear," Twelve said, glancing fleetingly back at Dijkstra. "Talk about your bad breakups."

"I just think it's so nice that, after all they've been through, they can still be friends," I said with as much irony as I could muster.

"Yes, well….just so long as they keep their, uh….friendship from interfering with Council affairs," Twelve said. "Anyway, what have you got planned for the evening?"

"A bunch of us are heading over to a hobbit pub in the village called the Angry Oliphaunt for dinner and drinks. You want to come?" I asked him

But he shook his head. "Can't, sorry. I still have some work to do on the TARDIS to get her back to her usual self. Travel is still severely limited. I meant to get it done a couple weeks back but got caught up in Council business, as usual."

"Damn. Oh well, maybe next time. Take care, Doctor.

_Where starlight shines from violet blooms_

_Where horrors prowl in forest gloom  
Where heroes and fiends both stake their claim  
That's not the place from where we came_

_Hey ho, where do furry feet go_

_When the jungle green begins to glow?  
Shire folk roam so far from home  
Walking through the dreams of a bloke we know_

That's what the band was playing that night at the Angry Oliphant, on the opposite side of the room from the bar. They were a merry band of four happy hobbits, half drunk on their hobbit hooch. One of them gleefully strung on his fiddle, while another pranced around with his accordion. A good number of the other patrons were singing right along with them, raising mugs filled with deep amber ale tipped with a fine layer of froth. Not all of the patrons were hobbits, though most were and the pub was built to cater to them. Luckily for us, there were some seats and tables made to accommodate us Big Folk (as well as some for what the hobbits had taken to calling the Bigger Folk), mostly along the sides. That's where I was sitting with Brendan, Ciri,, Geralt, Triss, and Dandelion.

"You should have seen the look on Dijkstra's face!" Ciri said between mouthfuls of bread, "He was as red and swollen as a child's balloon! I was certain if Philippa kept talking, he was sure to pop."

"Now there's a lovely image," I said, even as Dandelion guffawed and Triss giggled. Even Geralt couldn't help but let out a subdued chuckle.

"I can only imagine what the rest of the Council was thinking," Brendan said. "Sounds like quite the awkward situation."

"Oh that was nothing compared to the rows between the Satyriacs and the Yautja over the practice of trophy hunting," Ciri said. "Nearly came to blows at least twice before an accord was reached."

"What did you have to say on these matters of state? I take it you kept the interests of the Empire close to heart?" Dandelion asked with a sly cock of his right eyebrow.

"More than Emeyr ever did at least," Ciri said, casually mentioning the Emperor of Nilfgaard - her birth father - by his first name. "Seriously though, until any actual Nilfgaardian territory is found, my presence on the Council is completely pointless - just another perfect way to waste my time."

"It's not a waste of time," Triss said with the mildly chastising tone of a big sister, "You have a place on the governing body of one of the greatest states that's ever existed. I can't think of a greater privilege."

"What, not even 'King of the Swineherds?'" Ciri said, gently pushing her elbow into Geralt's side.

He shook his head looking down and said, "One day I'll learn to keep my most embarrassing stories to myself."

"So you keep saying," Ciri said tauntingly, though she instantly offset the effect by giving him a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Oh , before I forget," Dandelion said, putting down a slice of cheese on a piece of bread, "I have an announcement to make. Priscilla and I have completed the ballad that we've been working on for the last several months. We plan on premiering it at the end of the month, and to celebrate, we were thinking of hosting a special event, preferably here at the Oliphant. A special gathering filled with song, dance, poetry, and all other forms of performative artistry, and not just from the celebrated Callonetta and me."

"So like an open mic?" Brendan asked with interest.

"I beg your pardon?" Dandelion asked him.

"Like, you leave the stage open, and people choose to perform as the night goes on," Brendan said.

Dandelion's eyebrows rose, and he placed a finger on the edge of his moustache. "Interesting. Such spontaneity sounds positively titillating. Anyone can volunteer to perform? How does one curate the acts? What's to stop some talentless hack from wasting everyone's valuable time and sensibilities with some pointless drivel?"

"Then I'd have to get you down off the stage before the audience started to riot," Geralt said to laughs from the whole table, save Dandelion of course.

"Yes, well, as an uncultured vagabond whose greatest understanding of music comes from the shrieking of wyverns, you can only imagine how much value I place on your musical tastes," Dandelion said, taking a bite of the bread and cheese.

"Hey now, I take exception to that," Geralt said, less than half seriously. "You've clearly never heard my rendition of Vicovaran Maid."

"I have," Triss said playfully, "And I think Dandelion may actually have a point for once."

"Everyone's a critic," Geralt said, though he was smiling at her.

"What about you Ciri?" I asked her. "Do you like to sing?"

She shook her head. "Singing isn't one of the skills they teach you at Kaer Morhen. Though they do teach ballet."

"Eskel was always the most graceful," Geralt said.

Going back to the subject, Brendan said, "I might have something for that."

"Excellent!" Dandelion said, patting him on the back. "What were you thinking? A poem?"

Brendan nodded. "Yup. There are a few things I've been fiddling with over the last couple years, but I got a really good idea for something a couple nights ago."

"You mean, when we faced the Nazgul and the dementors?" I asked.

"Eh...a little after the fact," he said.

That's when our drinks arrived - 7 mugs topped with froth carried by a 'young' hobbit (as in having recently come of age at 33). The booths for the Big People were built a few steps down into the floor so that the height discrepancy wasn't so pronounced. The waiter briskly placed each mug before each of its proper recipients before quickly asking if anyone needed anything more. When we declined, he left us.

It was at that point that Ciri stood up and cleared her throat. "Everyone, if I could have your attention," she said, picking up her mug as we all turned to look up at her. "I'd like to propose a toast: to Brendan, who just yesterday enlisted in the City Guard of the City, simple melee division."

We all banged our hands on the table before clinking our mugs together, a few drops of beer spilling on to the table. Geralt patted Brendan on his left shoulder, and Triss patted his right. Brendan looked at all of us for a quick moment with a grateful smile before looking down. I had a feeling looking at Brendan that he was seeing past the fleeting admiration to the greater, more terrifying implications of the commitment he'd made. But at the same time, he was trying to push those thoughts to the back of his mind so he could enjoy our company.

"What do you say Geralt?" I said turning to him. "Think you'll join up?"

"Not gonna happen," he said with a wave of his hand, "Witcher's code - always stay neutral."

"Right always stay neutral," Triss said, "except for when you don't."

"Extenuating circumstances," Geralt said dismissively.

"I might have believed you if you were only referring to the Battle of the Bridge," Dandelion said shrewdly, "but in recent years, you and other members of your guild have repeatedly inserted yourselves into matters of state, quite important matters I might add, the consequences of which have been nothing short of dire in many cases."

"I walk my own path always have. When 'matters of state' as you call them blunder into my way, I'm forced to act. But I'm neither a soldier nor a politician. I'm not interested in directing the course of history, just trying not to drown in it either," Geralt said.

"So then it's exactly like I said," Triss said, her arms folded, "You don't get involved, except for when you do."

"Perhaps," Geralt said, before taking a sip of beer.

"Why are you so ashamed of breaking with neutrality?" Triss asked him. "There are certain times when inaction is equivalent to aiding the enemy."

Looking at her, Geralt said, "Don't you think the enemy would say the same thing? How can I be helping them anymore than I'm helping you?"

"Oh come off it Geralt," Dandelion said. "You've never been one to stand by in the presence of wicked deeds, and that's a credit to you, not something to feel shame for. For all your other, numerous faults, I can at least say that you're not the kind of person who would stand by while Nilfgaardian soldiers put innocent women to the noose."

"That's different," Geralt protested.

"How?" Triss asked.

"Because in a situation like that, the only one I'm answerable to is me, and that's how I like to keep it. A soldier or a general is answerable to his country, and I don't trust any king or council to tell me right from wrong. Those Nilfgaardian soldiers didn't have the luxury of deciding whether or not it was right to hang those women. They were told to, and that's that, unless they wanted to hang themselves for desertion. I can only do what I think is right, not what some pompous high ranking asshole thinks."

"Nevertheless," Dandelion persisted, "you can't honestly claim the label of neutral. In days past, many other witchers would have collected their pay from the soldiers and been on their way, regardless of how they felt about the women. That would be true neutrality, as well as utterly contemptible. For Gods' sake Geralt, we're trying to pay you compliment!"

Triss added, "It more feels like you hide behind the excuse of 'neutrality' whenever you don't want to get involved with something, even when you know it would be the right thing to do."

"Maybe," Geralt said, "Maybe I use it to keep myself from getting involved too often. Don't want to get mixed up in things too much, or else you just end up making bad decisions."

I finally decided to speak up in Geralt's favor. "Eh, the army's 11 million strong. I doubt Geralt would make much of a difference...uh, no offense Geralt."

"None taken," he said looking at me, "And it's true. No witcher ever saved the world."

"Well...not on his own anyway," I said to him.

"Hopefully, this upcoming battle between the forces of good and evil doesn't interfere with Dandelion's open mic," Brendan said

Dandelion gasped. "Good Gods, you're right! Ugh bad timing is the curse of all the greatest artists!"

"And you," Ciri said to more laughs. When Dandelion shot her a look, she said, "Oh come on, you have to admit, you just keep setting yourself up so well for it."

"How many people are you hoping to have for this thing?" I asked him.

"As many as possible really," Dandelion said.

"Well if you want to have it here, that might not be very many," I said, looking around at the limited space provided by the oliphant.

"Oh don't worry, I've been thinking about that," he said, as if satisfied by whatever clever thought he was about to voice. "It would indeed be quite a shame if only a small number of patrons could attend. Oh if only there were some kind of device that was capable of making a space bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, and if only one of my dear acquaintances had an in with someone who had such a device…"

"You know," I said, putting down my mug, "You're not subtle, okay? You think you're subtle, but you're not."

"Feeble pretenses aside," Dandelion said, "Do you think you'd be able to convince the Doctor to lend some of that marvelous TARDIS technology to this endeavour?"

"One of them anyway," I said, "But I think you'd have a harder time convincing the owners to let you use it in here. Hobbits have never been too keen on technology."

"The ones that live closer to the city don't seem to mind it as much," Brendan said, "which makes a lot of sense."

"I still think getting them to agree to it will be the biggest hurdle," I said. "You might want to make sure you give them as much notice as possible...oh, and pay them accordingly."

"No worries in that department!" Dandelion said cheerfully. "The Pankratz family fortune is alive and well."

"It better be with all the new outfits you've been buying," Ciri said, gesturing to his vivid magenta pantaloons and a shirt so puffy it'd make Jerry Seinfeld proud. All in all, he was the walking definition of the word 'fop.'

"It's all part of the art of performance," he said. "In a performance, there must be thought given to all of one's senses, including that of sight. The greatest aim of any performance is to leave an impression on one's audience," he said, puffing himself up like a peacock in full display.

Smirking, Geralt said, "You really do make it too easy."

"Mock me all you want," Dandelion said, "But I've played enough crowds to know what works and what doesn't when it comes to performing."

Seeing the opportunity, I quickly added, "I suppose we can always ask Priscilla, see if Dandelion really is as good at performing as he says he is." Even Dandelion had to laugh at that.

"Speaking of which," Triss said, turning to Ciri, "Have you seen anyone around town that's caught your eye?"

"Come on Triss," Ciri said, waving her off, though Triss was only amused by her obvious annoyance. "I'm doing just fine on my own."

"It's not a matter of how you're doing on your own," Triss said. "A woman's connection to another is never a statement on her own level of competence."

"Either way, if I'd met someone, you'd know about it," Ciri maintained, taking another swig.

"I don't know," I said, "You were awfully...forthcoming with that jeweler when you got that pendant," I said, pointing at the amber necklace with the scorpion inside.

"Patrick!" she said with a hiss, her cheeks flushing red.

"A jeweler?" Triss said, taking notice and leaning in close to Ciri. "What are they like? Man, woman? How old are they?"

"It's nothing, really!" Triss said, though her laughs conveyed that there may have been something more to it.

"Well tell me more about nothing," Triss said, not to be dissuaded, resting her chin in her hands.

"It was just...you know, a little flirting, just for fun," Ciri said. "She's not my type, I can tell."

"Why's that?" Geralt asked.

"It-...I, just, I can tell," Ciri said.

I rolled my eyes, "Oh come on."

"You come on!" she said, throwing it back at me. "Listen, when I meet someone...like, If I-it's just, no, not happening."

"Why the hell not?" I asked. "She was perfectly nice, and absolutely gorgeous."

"I never said she wasn't," Ciri said. "It's just...I need something a little more."

"Like what?" Geralt asked.

Ciri took a moment to think, running her finger along the edge of her mug. "I...I like someone who's more...active."

"Active?" Brendan asked. "LIke, physically, or-?"

"No, I mean...well, not just physically," Ciri said, looking for the right words. "I want someone who charges head first at any problem, sword in hand ready to cut it down with one long sweep. Someone who craves adventure and danger."

Triss started to giggle so hard that she covered her mouth with her hand.

"What's so funny?!" Ciri asked with rippling ferocity.

Geralt answered. "Because that's exactly the answer anyone would expect from a young woman of your age.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Triss said, finally able to stop giggling (weird as this might sound, it might be helpful to know that Triss is quite the lightweight). "I just...I think it's adorable."

"What's so adorable about it?" Ciri snapped, getting only more defensive. "Do you think I'm some sort of wide-eyed, gullible wench waiting to be swept away by her Prince Charming? Or perhaps you'd rather settle for some boring, stupid clod with no sense of purpose or ambition? Who ignores or runs away from problems instead of dealing with them?"

Triss wasn't giggling anymore. "That is not what we're saying at all, and you know it," she said, her voice going stern again. "I don't have to tell you what kind of person I'd want to be with," she said, putting her hand on Geralt's shoulder, "You just find that your preferences might change as you get older."

"I bloody well hope not," Ciri said. "I'll not settle for anything less than the best - if I want to be with anyone at all!"

Triss shrugged and just said, "Whatever you say, little sis. What about you two?" she said, changing the focus of the conversation to ease Ciri's nerves. "Anyone in the city catch your attention?"

"Not unless you count Karen Gillan or Lupita Nyong'o," I said with a careless chuckle (which, for the record, I didn't).

Brendan snickered, but the others didn't get the reference. Then he said, "Nah, not really. There was this one girl who was working at the library up until about a year ago, but," and he ended the statement with a shrug.

"What was she like?" CIri asked, getting suddenly interested.

"Her name was Maggie," he said. "She was a little shorter than me, had very short black hair, was very smart. She was an artist - a painter, and she also played trumpet."

"Oh fuck!" I said in a voice that was unfortunately loud enough for some of the other tables to hear "Er, sorry," I said before continuing, "Brendan - that's MY Maggie!"

"...uh.," Brendan said, clearly confused.

In hindsight, it wasn't a useful nomer seeing as how everything in the universe was 'mine' in a sense. I said, "Remember, Maggie, back at SVA?"

"OOOHHH," he said, the realization hitting him pretty hard. Then he smiled, "Oh yikes...I never even thought…"

I was actually laughing pretty hard, "No, no, you're fine, it's alright."

"It appears as though the rest of us are missing something," Dandelion said, leaning in. "Who is this mysterious Maggie?"

"I'd hardly call her mysterious," I said with another laugh, "She was just a girl I went to college with several years ago. I had a crush on her but she was dating someone else. We were friends for a while, but she was uncomfortable with my feelings for her and eventually just kinda stopped talking to me."

"Ah unrequited love," Dandelion said, putting the back of his hand to his forehead. "Perhaps no pain is quite so universal, so transcendent to the very essence of the human experience that it crosses the very boundaries of time and space."

"I don't know," I said with a shrug, "Stubbing your little toe is pretty nasty too." I deflected from the bad memories with a little humor.

"It's her loss," Ciri said. "I think any woman would be lucky to have you," and she smiled at me.

I smiled back at her. "Oh well...thanks, Ciri."

Dandelion said, "Seeing as you're quite keenly aware of all of our past intimacies, perhaps you'd care to share yours as well? You and Brendan?"

Brendan said, "Just two girlfriends, one when I was 17, the other when I was...uh...21? I think?"

"None for me," I said.

"None? At all?" Dandelion asked, looking aghast. "Good gods man, how old are you?"

"Uh...either 29 or 30 depending on how the time here compares to time back home," I said.

"30 years old, and you've never been with a woman?" Dandelion asked, looking even more scandalized than before, to almost cartoonish proportions.

"Nope," I said simply, taking a kind of pride in having accomplished something that was apparently so remarkable. "Never been with a man either."

"Have you taken some kind of sacred oath?" Dandelion asked, clearly trying to make sense of something so strange to him, "Is this a common occurrence in your world? Are you….that is, do you have…" and he ended the question by looking downwards.

"Shut up, Dandelion," Geralt said sharply.

"It's okay," I said, laughing. "To answer the questions - no, I haven't taken any oaths, it's not normal for men in my world to make it this far into life without some kind of sexual encounter, and no, I'm not a eunuch."

"Absolutely incredible!" Dandelion said, still reeling from the thought of going for 30 years without sex. "Don't you find it at all frustrating?"

"Eh...sometimes," I said. "But the, uh...frustration is easy enough to relieve."

"And that's all we'll say on that, thank you very much," Triss said, drawing the line.

"Forgive my incredulity," Dandelion said, "I just find it so curious. How is it that you've gone a lifetime without satiating your most fundamental human desires? Do you have to train yourself to not give in to lustful urges?"

I shook my head. "No, it's not something I like actively avoid, it's just...I don't know. It just hasn't happened yet. Haven't found someone interested enough."

"Not even in a brothel?" Dandelion asked, earning him a smack at the back of the head from Geralt.

I laughed, both at the comment and Geralt's reaction. "No brothels where I come from. Wouldn't be interested anyway. I like to think that when...or, I guess, if I finally do find someone who is interested, then it will be an all around better experience"

"You will," Brendan said simply.

"Definitely," Ciri said.

"They're right," Geralt said, "You'd be surprised the people I've seen together. Once knew a man who married a grave hag, and a woman who longed for a werewolf. You'll find someone, just gotta keep looking." I knew Geralt was trying to be supportive, but I also couldn't help but think to myself _Christ even grave hags get more action than me..._

"It's not as if I haven't tried," I said. "Maggie's far from the first crush I've ever had in my life, and I doubt she'll be the last. Many have come and gone. Whenever they find out my real feelings for them, I never hear from them again, no matter how close - or not - we were."

"Why would they do that?" Ciri said, growing angry again.

I just shrugged. "I can understand the awkwardness, but at least with some of them, I'd like to think our friendship was strong enough to withstand it, but…" and I trailed off.

"Well that sounds like a really shitty thing to do," Ciri said. "It's downright cowardly is it what it is. It's not as if you forced yourself on them, right?"

I was quick to nod my head. "Oh no, never touched any of them. Never said that we had to be together. I was perfectly content to just stay friends."

"Then what's the bloody problem?!" Ciri said, throwing up her hands. ""Gods, why are so many girls so stupid?"

"I can understand their predicament, even if I disagree with their course of action," Triss said. "When a woman is faced with that kind of choice, she feels a lot of pressure not to hurt the man's feelings. And not all men take the rejection as well as you do Patrick. They could very well have felt trapped."

"No I understand why they did what they did," I said, nodding at Triss. "It just doesn't make it hurt any less."

"Cruel fate," Dandelion said, "that ties love - of all man's emotions, the most sublime - inextricably to pain...no, that's no good."

"Work on your poetry later," Geralt said.

"But Geralt's right," Triss said, smiling at him. "There really is someone out there for everyone. You'll find them someday."

"Here's hoping," I said, feeling just the slightest bit of irony over the fact that I'd always had a major crush on Triss as well, all signs of which evaporated instantly whenever Geralt was in the room. "In the meantime, there are plenty of other things to think about."

"Like my performance!" Dandelion said happily.

"...I was thinking more along the lines of the war, but okay," I said.

"Whatever," Dandelion said with a careless wave of his hand. "In point of fact, I think such an event would be a good opportunity for you to get out, perhaps make the acquaintance of a lovely young lady."

"Perhaps," I said, "Or perhaps I'll get completely plastered, take my clothes off, get up on top of a table and start singing a song about dinosaurs to the tune of 867-5309."

"Please don't," Dandelion said slightly sardonically, though the others laughed.

"Don't worry Dandelion," I reassured him, "I never get drunk."

"What, never? Really?" Geralt asked.

"Me neither," Brendan added.

"My my," Dandelion said, looking at us both with shock bordering on disgust, "the young men of your world certainly are strange."

"Well, I certainly think so anyway," I said looking at Brendan, who snickered. "Believe me, Dandelion, Brendan and I are definitely not representative of the other young men from our world….well, at least not in those sorts of ways anyway…"

"If the men in our world are anything to go by, that can only be a good thing," Ciri said.

Looking at his phone briefly, Brendan said, "Well, it's getting late, and I need to be early tomorrow for the guard placement exam."

"You'll do great!" Ciri said, rubbing his shoulder. "Anyone who's trained with a witcher for four years is bound to be placed in the top regiment!"

"I'll see if I can flag down our waiter," I said, looking around the pub.

When we were all paid for, each person went their separate ways. Ciri and Triss both teleported back to their rooms at the palace, while Dandelion made for his penthouse in the city. Geralt was staying in an inn. He had no permanent residence in the city, as he came and went in pursuit of witcher contracts. This left Brendan and I alone, standing on the steps of the Angry Oliphant.

I looked at Brendan, who was just vacantly staring off into the night. "How you feeling?" I asked him.

He blinked and half-turned in my direction. "Just thinking," he said.

"Are you sure this is something you want to do?" I asked, getting close to him and speaking in a low voice. "You really don't have to"

He said nothing at first; he just kept staring out into the dark surrounding us. "What's happening Patrick?" he asked.

I wasn't sure how to answer that, let alone what the actual answer was. Still not really looking at each other, I said, "A lot. A lot is happening."

"I've spent my whole life staunchly opposed to even the idea of war...and now I'm joining the army...well, the Guard, but still," he said, looking down at his feet. "How did that happen?" Though his voice was soft, there was a powerful undercurrent of terror. He was genuinely afraid that he'd lost some fundamental part of himself.

"War is...war is something different here, I think," I said in a quiet voice. "God knows I don't know anything about war, not really. Not in the way Tolkien did. What's going on here...it's not really war, not in the same sense as it is in the real world. My only notions of war come from fiction, and I think that's going to be reflected somehow."

"How do you think?" he asked.

"Well...it's not as if it won't be scary...or dangerous….or hard…..but this is Sauron we're talking about, and the daleks. At least we can be assured that we're fighting on the right side"

"Does that make killing easier?" Brendan asked, looking at me for the first time.

I paused before saying, "Probably not much..."

Brendan shook his head. "I'm struggling to realize the position I'm putting myself in. Out there on the battlefield, it's kill or be killed, with no time for thinking in between. I'm a thoughtful person, averse to conflict. What was I thinking, signing up for the army?"

"Well, why did you?" I asked, hoping that remembering the reason might help him to find solace.

Taking a moment to think, he finally answered, "Because when Ciri asked me if I would, I couldn't think of a good reason to say no."

"So you do believe it's the right thing to do?" I asked.

He nodded slowly. "Ciri was right. I've spent my whole life admiring and learning from the deeds of great old. No matter how much I don't want to fight, I also know it would go against everything I believe in, everything I stand for, to do nothing.

"Back home, confronting evil didn't mean fighting. It meant speaking up when others were silent. It meant showing compassion when others would show scorn. But now…well, I guess now it means swinging a sword at some orc or...whatever," he said with a small shrug

I put my arm around his shoulder and pulled him close to me. "Listen," I said, "I once asked you what makes you angry more than anything else in the world, and I still remember what you told me. You said that nothing made you angrier than if someone hurt the people you love. That's why you're doing this - because the people you love are being threatened, and you want to do something about it. In that sense, nothing's changed: you're exactly the same person you were before, driven by the same goals, and with that same sense of loyalty. When the time comes, just remember that. Remember who you are, and you'll know what to do."

He looked at me carefully, our eyes meeting. And then he smiled, the faintest traces of a tear glimmering in his left eye. "I'm glad I'm fighting to protect your mind."

I smiled wide, pulling him closer for a full hug before saying, "And I'm glad to have you defending it."


	6. Chapter 6 - War

**Chapter Six: War**

War didn't announce itself. It paid no heed to daily routine or sensibility. There simply came a day when everyone's phones started buzzing and ringing all over the city. I was at work. I think Mark was the first to get the alert, but it made little difference given that everyone in the city got the same alert no more than a minute afterwards. Work ground to a halt as a dreadful silence settled over the office. Should we go home, or keep working? Would it make sense to find shelter? Leave the city maybe? The mind flooded with boundless potential for horror, paralyzing all thought.

The five of us in the room were startled when a shaking voice crackled over the loudspeakers. "Patrick to the front lobby."

I got up from where I was sitting, my legs shaking slightly. With a dry mouth and sweaty hands, I made my way down to the lobby, where I saw Yennefer of Vengerberg standing dressed in her typical black attire with silver trimmings. It reminded me of the words of the sorceress Keria Metz: "If I'm to die today, I wish to look smashing for the occasion."

"Come," she said curtly, striding over briskly to me, "Sauron has made his first strike, the War Council is begun."

Before I could say anything, she held up her hands as a blast of swirling orange light burst from the air before us with a great bang. Only barely aware of what was happening, I followed her through the portal, lost in a vast and unending void for a split second before stepping from the main lobby of the Institute for Integrative biology into a strange new room I had never been in before, though I recognized the smooth black walls as those of the palace. Gandalf was there, as was the Ninth Doctor, with his characteristic dumbo ears and short hair. Joining them were General Ju'mon of the Army and Admiral Shun lak of the Air Force. Superman stood next to Captain America, while Shuri - brother to T'Challa, Princess of Wakanda, and the chief expert on vibranium-based technology - stood next to a number of sorceresses, whom Yennefer joined when she stepped through the portal. Everyone was gathered around a circular table, which was projecting a holographic terrain map. I wasn't exactly sure what it was displaying, but on opposite sides of the projection two red lights were blinking rapidly.

"400 Dalek war ships, and approximately 1.5 milion dalek troops," said a voice, though no one in the room said it. Looking around, I saw a miniature holographic projection obscured by the light of the terrain map at first. It was an Ice Warrior speaking to Admiral Shun lak.

"How is the barrier holding?" the Admiral asked.

"It's holding, but the daleks haven't tested the full extent of their fire power on it yet, " the Ice Warrior said. "Unless it's reinforced significantly, they could break through."

The Ninth Doctor turned to Shuri and said, "Can you do something about that?"

She nodded. "The energy converters are ready. All they need is a magic user of significant strength to boost the superconductivity of the photon particle matrix."

"That's where we come in," Phillippa Eilhart said, turning to the other sorceresses. "Fringilla."

An olive-skinned, green-eyed woman with short black hair responded to the call. "Yes Philippa?"

"Go to Minas Tirith and reinforce the barrier there. The scientists there will show you how. It will mostly require you to project a conventional magical barrier, though it will use much more of your mystical powers. Do you understand?" Philippa asked in a cool, distant voice.

"Yes Philippa," Fringilla Vigo said with a bow of her head. After opening another portal of her own making, Fringilla was gone in a blink.

"What of Gotham?" Gandalf asked.

Another miniature hologram spoke, this time a Venatorial. "The situation is far less pressing. The orc troops don't have nearly the fire power of the daleks, but they still number 500,000 troops, and have cut off all access to and from the city."

"What of our flying machines?" Gandalf said. "Orcs have no weapons that can fell one of the air ships."

"They don't need weapons," the Venatorial said, "They have a dragon patrolling the air space."

"Do you think the barrier there will need reinforcing?" Nine asked Shuri.

She shook her head. "No. Based on my understanding of dragon fire, the standard model should effectively protect the city."

"Very well," Commander Ju'mon said, leaning on her spear. "I think we should devote the bulk of the Army to Gotham, and send the Air force to deal with the daleks."

Admiral Shun lak said, "Yes, and we should move as quickly as possible."

Ju'mon held up her right arm;. Along the forearm was a gauntlet which flipped open at a flick of her wrist. Several beeps came from the device as she pressed several buttons, red letters flashing at her commands. "The order's been sent out," she growled. "Let's move."

She and the Admiral left the room, leaving us with Shuri, the sorceresses, Superman, Captain America, the Doctor, and Gandalf. "Now then," Gandalf said, turning to Cap and Supes, "How do your companies plan on dealing with these attacks?"

"With all due respect to the Captain," Superman said, gesturing to Rogers, "The Justice League has more heavy hitters than the Avengers. I think we'd be better utilized against the daleks."

"Understood," Captain America said, taking no offense, "The important thing is that everyone goes where they're most needed."

"Right then, off you go," Nine said, almost cheerfully, and the two superheros left the room. "What will the rest of you do?" he asked the Philippa.

"Evacuation of course," she said, "once a proper safe zone is selected."

"The city is the most heavily defended," Gandalf said. "Bring them here."

"Understood," Philippa said. "Sisters - we will break into two groups. Margarita, Keira, Ida, and Triss will go to Minas Tirith. The rest of you will come with me to Gotham. Yennefer will stay here to stabilize the portals and direct the flow of refugees." By the look on Yennefer's face, it was clear that she deeply resented taking orders from Philippa, but did nothing to object.

"Where in the city should we send them?" Triss asked.

Nine answered, "The Entrance Hall to the Palace will do, at least for now."

Philippa nodded and turned back to the others. "Very well then. Everyone to your positions." Two portals were opened, and the sorceresses split themselves between them, leaving Yennefer behind to make her way to the Entrance Hall.

Unsure of what came next, I asked, "What happens now?"

"Now we wait…and hope," Gandalf said.

"Oh...was there any particular reason you brought me?" I asked.

"Because this is your mind, your world," Nine said as if it were obvious...which I suppose it was. "You're the expert on everything that exists here."

"Hey now," I said putting up my hands defensively, "If it's here, it just means I know about it, that doesn't make me an expert."

"You still know more about the combined elements here than anyone," Nine said. "Today we were able to anticipate the threats, but that might not be the case next time. We're going to need you to inform us about threats we have little to no intelligence on."

"Well, I mean, is this it? Because if it is, I'm not sure if there's anything I can do, the situation seems pretty well-handled," I said.

But Gandalf shook his head. "We don't even know what the situation is at this point. Appearances can be deceptive, and Sauron is the master of deception. We are reacting as best we can, but we do not yet know what Sauron's true purpose is."

"Oh...right…" I said, rubbing my arm, "So I guess I should stick around?"

"You think?" Nine said, though his wide goofy grin undercut his sarcastic tone.

The three of us waited in the room for hours. The monotony of the waiting was broken only by occasional field reports from Commander Ju'mon and Admiral Shun lak, provided via holographic projection. It was an intense wait at first, my heart filled with a heavy dread that I could feel weighing on my chest. By the first hour, we learned that the orcs had traded their crude spears and scimitars for new forms of weaponry, no doubt the product of Sauron's vile imagination. These apparently included new blades made of some kind of metal of unknown origin, but which was apparently second only to Vibranium in terms of hardness. They'd also swapped out catapults for plasma-light cannons. With these new powerful weapons combined with the primal savagery of the orcs, I was deeply troubled.

But despite these apprehensions, the field reports were actually mostly positive. The barriers were successful at deterring the invaders from entering the habited areas, and the troops were successful at holding the line along the perimeter. This was good news since the number of deployed troops was significantly less than those of the enemy. It was a calculated risk on our part, but it seemed to be paying off.

We were also given occasional briefings about the evacuation efforts, which were also running relatively smoothly. The displaced citizens came through the portals generated by the sorceresses into the Entrance Hall of the palace, where they were fed, watered, and given a place to rest in hopes that their homes would remain intact come the morrow.

The hours ticked by, and apprehension slowly gave way to boredom. The field reports decreased in frequency after the fourth hour, which we figured was probably okay (no news is good news, that sort of thing). Attendants would bring us water and simple snacks every so often. After 13 hours or so, were even brought matts to sleep on. Nine took advantage of this quickly and settled himself in for a nap, leaving Gandalf and I on watch.

I saw Gandalf looking at me as I sat there, staring blankly at the floor between my folded hands. He seemed to be examining me, as if looking for something buried in my mind. He didn't need me to ask. "How does it feel?" he asked me.

"What?" I asked, though I could probably have guessed.

"To know that war rages out there," he said, holding out his hand and gesturing to the outside, "and that you are here."

I was always self conscious whenever someone like Gandalf or the Doctor asked a question. Not only could you expect a scolding if you answered wrong, but they were also the sort of people that demanded you to impress them. Not literally of course, but it was easy to feel stupid around them, and any question they asked was essentially an invitation to make yourself look even more stupid. So I always took extra time to answer.

When I finally did, I said, "I...don't know ...I mean, honestly ...I guess I feel...bored...more than anything." My speech was very stunted, mostly because I was actually pretty ashamed of my answer. Saying it out loud only made it feel more callous and unfeeling. Not wanting to give them that idea, I added, "I mean, it's just...It's kinda hard to...to connect everything, you know? I'm stuck in here, cut off from everything that's happening. I guess...I guess it just doesn't seem quite...real, at least not in here."

"Hmm," Gandalf said with a slow nod. "War waged from afar feels wrong to me. That is the way of the Enemy- forsake the field of battle, and face his foes only to triumph over them when all else is fought and won. If one wishes to wage war, than he must be willing to be the first charge head first into battle, sword at the ready."

Seeing my chance, I asked Gandalf a question that had always been at the back of my mind. "Say Gandalf - do you think war is good?" He didn't answer me at first, instead furling his brow and looking at me with a confused look. I added to the question, "I mean...I've always believed that war is wrong - that there are other ways to solve problems, and wars are often waged by selfish people for selfish reasons that can't possibly justify all the...all the killing and destruction."

At the very least, Gandalf looked less confused. "The decision to engage in war is perilous, but at times also necessary. The people of Middle-earth have ever been at war against the forces of Sauron because he threatens not only their comfort and prosperity, but their very lives. However, when we look at history, we also see war waged for less pressing reasons - for glory and conquest. War waged for the purposes of slaughter and enslavement, such as those of Sauron, must be fought - there is no other choice. In such cases, battle should be confronted with bravery and honor.

"Other forms of war can be prevented or resisted, and should be done so if no other options present themselves. War is a last resort, but make no mistake Patrick Murphy - it is a resort. It is true that many are too quick to use sword and spear to solve their problems, and your wariness is founded in wisdom. But there are times when the only choices are war or oblivion."

"Guess this would be one of those times," I said. "I guess it's just that, where I come from, people say that war is the only answer, but I don't see it that way. I think it's just easier for them to sit behind a desk and say 'we have to fight these people' because actually talking with them and trying to make peace is too hard for them. They'd rather send thousands of people to their death."

"Such war is indeed an evil thing," Gandalf said nodding, "And if that is your only knowledge of war, then your distaste for it is most wise. But that is not the war that we fight now. We fight only for our right to live - to laugh and love, to weep and to wonder, to make and to mend. You know the ideals upon which this alliance was founded."

I nodded. "I guess I'm just not used to this sort of thing...wars like this rarely happen in the...in my world."

"As I said, your distrust of war is founded in good sense, " Gandalf said, "Indeed, it is specifically because war is sometimes necessary that makes the decision to wage it so perilous. If war were always wrong, then one who is righteous could simply avoid it. The problem is that sometimes war is the only choice, and even the most noble knight can be tricked into thinking he is doing the right thing when he's doing the worst."

"Oh yeah, believe me I know. People are great at tricking themselves into thinking they're being righteous when they're really just being selfish...morons…" I almost said 'assholes' but I doubt Gandalf would have appreciated that. "And heck, I don't even absolve myself from that. I try not to fall into that sort of thing, but it happens sometimes."

"That is no great crime," Gandalf said, "Especially as you aware of it. So long as you do your best to prevent it from happening, and make amends when you falter, then all is good."

A small blinking light and repetitive beeping on the control console caught our attention. We got up to take a look, Gandalf pressing his finger to the button. Admiral Shun lak appeared before us, miniaturized and translucent. "Admiral Shun lak reporting from Minas Tirith. Do you read me."

"We read you, Admiral," Gandalf said, "What is your status?"

"The dalek forces appear to be retreating. Dalek troops are leaving the air-space and returning to their ships. Several ships have already made the jump out of UA territory."

"Excellent," Gandalf said, "Maintain your position, we'll contact you with further instructions once we get word from Gotham."

The Admiral flapped her wings once and said, "Admiral Shun lak over and out," as his visage flickered and vanished.

Nine snorted in his sleep before shaking himself awake, "Oy what I'd miss?" he said, shaking the grogginess out of his voice.

"The battle on the Northeast front appears to have waned," Gandalf said as the Doctor got to his feet. "Admiral Shun lak reports that the daleks are retreating."

"Retreating?" Nine said, his brow wrinkling at the word. "That's not right. Daleks don't retreat, they fight to the last man - er, dalek. Any word from Gotham?"

"None recently," Gandalf said.

"We should call them," Nine said, punching a few keys on the console. A trilling sound signaled the ringing of the call on the other line. When General Ju'mon's image appeared as a small hologram, it said to us, "I was just about to contact you - the orcs are moving off to the East. A retreat seems imminent."

The three of us exchanged curious looks. Nine said, "Both regiments ordered to retreat at the same time?"

"Curious…" Gandalf said, stroking his beard. "Both seemed to be taking heavy damage from our forces...perhaps Sauron underestimated our strength?"

Nine shook his head, "You don't believe that and neither do I. Sauron's too cunning to make a mistake like that."

"What are you suggesting?" I asked.

"Nothing just yet…," Nine said cautiously, "But I think everyone should maintain their position, and we should be prepared to deploy reinforcements. Check the satellite network, see if-" but he was cut off mid sentence by an earth-shattering boom that caused the whole palace to quake. Gandalf lost his footing and had to grab onto the console to keep from falling, and the Doctor stumbled into the wall. I stepped backward and fell backwards into a chair, which inturn fell over and put me on my back. As Nine helped me back onto my feet, he said, "The shock waves traveled down from the point of origin, not up, so it wasn't an earthquake. Something big just moved over us."

"How big?" I asked, but he gave me no answer save a dark look. "Shit."

"It's no good hanging around here," Nine said, grabbing a mobile com link, "Come on, let's go."

The three of us left the war room to find the halls filled with frantic creatures moving up and down in a confused panic. Chimps were screaming in high-pitched fury as they bolted down the halls on all fours. A Satyriac appeared around one corner, only to disappear behind another as he ran like an ostrich right passed us. Growing ever more flustered, Gandalf reached out and grabbed a passing Silurian and asked him, "For goodness' sake, what is happening?"

With a look of absolute terror in his eyes, the Silurian pointed behind him and stuttered, "O-Outisde! O-O-Outside!" before pulling away from Gandalf's grip and running away. With little else to do but follow his instructions, Gandalf, Nine, and I hurried to the nearest place we could find with an outdoor view, which happened to be a balcony facing Westwards. As we saw the open view coming up in front of us. It looked dark outside, but if was the afternoon. It wasn't until we actually made it out there that all became clear.

What at first looked like a night sky come early, complete with twinkling stars, was actually the underside of a gargantuan ship - a disk-shaped behemoth nearly 15 miles in diameter, totally bathing the entire city in its shadow. Having seen the movie _Independence Day_ about 50 times at 12, I knew what was coming.

"GET THE BARRIER UP!" I shouted several times. "GET THE BARRIER UP! FIND YENNEFER!"

Nine held up the mobile comm link and said, "Shuri, this is the Doctor, do you read me?"

"Yes Doctor, I see it," her heavily accented voice came over the link, "I'm preparing the standard barrier now, but I'll need Yennefer to get here if it's to be enhanced."

"Good, keep working on that, I'll track down Yennefer. In the meantime, I'm sending Patrick up to meet you there. He's going to stay with you until we can work out a better plan."

"What, why?" I asked.

"Our first priority is making sure that you don't fall into the hands of the Enemy," Gandalf said.

"Right," Nine said, "And the shield generators are on the top most tower of the castle: the very heart of the city. It's the most well defended point."

"Why not just teleport me the hell out of here?" I asked.

"There's no time to argue!" Nine shouted, "Sauron has just revealed to us that we have no clue what other forces he may have at his disposal. Hell, we don't even know for sure that Sauron's the one calling the shots anymore. There's no point teleporting you to any of the other outposts because there's every chance one of them could be attacked too, if they haven't already. The city is the most strongly defended place in UA territory, it's by far our best bet."

As he spoke, the three of us all made our way down the winding black hallways to the nearest short-range teleport pod. Before I went inside, the Doctor said, "Just stay there for now, we'll be in touch," and then he punched in the coordinates on the side panel, as well as the special code that permitted teleportation to restricted areas.

"Good luck," I said with a single nod before I dematerialized in a flash of light

I rematerialized in a reciprocal pod in another room of the castle which I had never been to at that point. Like all areas of the palace, it's walls were made of sleek, perfectly-polished black rock. The room itself was spherical in shape, and the walls were lined with complex computer consoles far unlike anything you'd find on a standard desktop. At first I thought there was a perfectly round, single ring of windows along the wall of the room, looking out into the city, but it soon became clear that these were projections on a screen, not actual windows. They permitted one to see out into the world outside, but still allowed the walls to be completely fortified.

My appearance caught the attention of the two other people in the room: Shuri, who was frantically running from one point of the room to the other doing goodness knows what with the controls, and Yennefer, who was standing next to a platform in the center. Yennefer was the first to see me, "Patrick?"

"Yennefer," I said, stepping out into the room.

Shuri turned around to look at me. "What are you doing here?"

"Doctor's orders," I said with a shrug. "He said it's the most heavily defended point the city. By the way, did he contact you yet?" I asked.

Shuri nodded, but Yenefer said, "No, I just heard about the ship and figured I'd be most useful here."

"Good instincts," I said.

"Or just basic logic," Shuri said, clearly frustrated with having to handle so much so suddenly. "Here Yennefer," she said handing Yennefer a pair of rods, "Now step onto the platform and place the rods into position."

Yennefer did as she was instructed, placing the bottom of the rods into two small holes on the surface of the platform, which they fit into perfectly. As she did, the obsidian charm on her necklace began to pulsate with a pale white light. Seeing the apparent fluorescence of her pendent, she pressed her finger to it and spoke. "I read you, go ahead."

"Yennefer, this is the Doctor. We need you to make it to the shield generators, we're preparing for an imminent-"

Yennefer interrupted him, "Yes, yes, I know, I'm already here. Shuri's preparing to activate the barrier, I'm in place."

"Oh - well, perfect," the Doctor asked.

"What is the status on Minas Tirith and Gotham?" She asked.

"No idea," he said. "We've been trying to contact our forces to send reinforcements back to the City, but they're not responding."

"Damn it," Yennefer cursed. "I highly doubt it's a matter of bad reception. We may just be on our own then."

"We'll find Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, see what the status is on the City Guard,"

"Good," Yennefer said, "Update us when you find him."

"Affirmative. Over and out," Nine said. At hs last words, Yennefer's pendant stopped flashing.

"Hurry!" Shuri said, waving her hands for Yennefer to get into position. I looked out the window-screen and saw the bottom of the Harvester ship slowly drifting further over the city, placing itself at the very center hatch was hovering directly over the city. As it got closer to us, the circular hatch opened up as several elongate panels crept open, their sheer size hindering their speed. Behind the panels, an eerie blue green light glowed from inside the ship; a fitting display that highlighted the otherworldliness of its drivers.

Shuri frantially entered the last few commands and adjusted two final dials before she turned to Yennefer and said, "Now!"

Yennefer tightened her grip, and a vein popped from her neck as she strained her magical strength. A faint violet glow began to shine around her, growing in intensity as she channeled more of her energy into the spell. As demonstrated during the Battle of Kaer Morhen, this energy would normally be projected outwards from Yennefer as a dome-shaped mystical wall. Instead, the energy was redirected through the platform at her feet. All around us, the room began to fill with a building hum of engines working at full capacity to assimilate Yennefer's magic. Shuri's fingers raced across an expansive keyboard as she calibrated the rising energy levels. All the while, the alien fluorescence from above grew brighter, turquoise streams of light flickering toward a central pylon, preparing to unleash its full might upon the city. Shuri was in competition with the Harvester ship, sword and shield each being deployed in real time. I could tell that Shuri had accomplished her goal when she slammed her hand on a single button and collapsed down into a nearby chair with an exasperated sigh.

With a burst of force that shook the room, the wall of the barrier spread outwards around the whole of the city, extending all the way to the farthest borders. A deep humming sound accompanied the wall of violet light as it sheltered us from the oncoming blast of the Harvester cannon. Yennefer's teeth were clenched, her face twisted into an expression of great exertion, as if she were attempting to push a ten ton boulder.

A beam of blue light as tall and wide as a skyscraper shot downwards from the City-Destroyer and collided with the top of the barrier. A single pulse of energy traveled down the beam and exploded with a force that must have been equivalent to a nuclear weapon, sending forth tidal waves of fire over the surface of the barrier. Pained screams filled the room as Yennefer fought to resist the force of the explosion against the wall of energy, her own fortitude and resilience embedded in the particles. Though we were successfully shielded from the devastation of the blast, it was nonetheless powerful enough to send tremendous shockwaves coursing through the building, strong enough to stun both Shuri and I in place.

By the time my senses were recovered , I saw an orange ceiling creeping over the surface of the barrier, blocking the sight of the Harvester ship overhead, and drowning the city in an uncanny orange hue. There was no real way to know what the difference in strength was between the cannon blast and the energy barrier. It was able to survive the first blast sure, but would it survive a second?

Breathing heavily and leaning back in her chair, Shuri said in an exhausted voice, "It works...it works…" Unfortunately, Yennefer was unable to share in the sense of relief, still expanding every ounce of her fortitude to keep the barrier up.

I went over to her and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"I could do with a warm bath, and a nice massage...but I'll be alright," she said through her teeth.

"What happens now?" I asked.

"Now we wait, and see if Project Neterreri is effective against the invaders," Shuri said, wiping sweat from her forehead.

"I don't know…" I said warily. "The Harvester's ships are surrounded by a forcefield. Will the microdroids be able to deal with that?"

"That doesn't matter," Shuri said with a casual wave of her hand, "I designed an energy converter that is installed in all of the microdroids. They have special sensors that detect variations in atmospheric energy levels within 10 micrometers. When that happens, the energy converters will channel the foreign energy signature and convert it into an energy form of the exact opposite polarity that cancels out the original source."

As the last of the flames passed over the dome, sweeping over the treetops of the surrounding jungle, the city-sized space craft reappeared. Though its attack was totally ineffective, the ship itself was still unscratched, and remained ominously in place over the city. But all around the edges of the city, just outside the barrier, towers began to rise from underground. They were placed at equidistant intervals around the outermost border, each one the color of fledgling steel. They didn't stop rising until they reached 500 feet into the air, higher than anything else save the tallest towers of the palace, and the tree itself. Once in place, horizontal hatches along the tops of the towers opened up. At first, it looked as if nothing else happened, since they were so far away from where we were. But after a while, it became apparent that they had released some kind of gas that rose up to meet the hull of the City-Destoyers...or so it would appear.

They weren't clouds - they were swarms: swarms of microscopic robots about twice the size of a an _E. coli _bacterium. Each one was designed to do nothing more than eat: to consume inorganic matter and convert it into nitrogenous waste. The swarms numbered in the quintillions. They rose upwards like silver smoke toward the City-Destroyer from all sides. As they got closer and closer, green lights flashed - the first droids making contact with the ship's shields. But the green flashes didn't halt the progress of the microdroids. Instead, the green flashes were met with red ones, apparently a sign of the energy converters Shuri had mentioned. This permitted the droids to bypass their shields and make straight for the hull. At fifteen miles wide, it would take the microscopic gluttons weeks before they could devour the whole thing, but hopefully before then they would eat through the ship's propulsion or life support systems.

The Destroyer's primary weapon was still glowing, though the light grew fainter by the second. No doubt that a weapon that powerful needed quite a bit of time to recharge. That's probably why the Destroyer unleashed a fleet of Attackers: saucer-shaped ships the size of a jet fighter. They dove right into the midst of the swarm, firing at them with pulses of green energy, like that of the City-Destroyer only on 1/100th the scale. I'm sure the weapons probably blasted through thousands of micro-droids, but that was a tiny loss compared to the quintillions that surrounded them. Like a horde of infinitesimal piranhas, the ravenous swarm stripped the Attackers to pieces in minutes. They were programmed not to harm organic life-forms, so they left the pilots untouched, causing them to fall thousands of feet to their deaths.

"It's working!" Shuri said, smiling since the first time I'd seen her.

I'm not a particularly superstitious man, but that's not to say I don't understand the feelings of people who are. Superstition applies order to otherwise random and indifferent circumstances. That's why, even though I don't believe in 'jinxing' something, I still couldn't help but think to myself _Don't say that, you'll jinx us!_

And indeed, maybe she did. At that moment, several large forms appeared on the periphery of the city as if they had simply appeared out of nowhere. There were nine of them, spread out in a line about 1000 feet in the air. These were ships, but unlike any I had ever seen up to that point. They were long, seven-sided, and spewed black smoke from four different exhaust ports. They had three layers, the center of which was spinning at a rapid pace. It was difficult to notice at first, but as I squinted at the makeshift windows, it looked as it there were people standing on the tops of the ships. In particular, on the centermost ship, there was one figure that caught my attention the most on account of how they seemed to sparkle and shimmer like a prism splitting the light of the sun.

"Stand by Yennefer," Shuri said as Yennefer tightened her grip on the poles once more, ready to take another onslaught.

"Wait a minute," I said, an idea germinating in my head, "Shuri, can you zoom in on those ships?"

She did, though as the picture zoomed in, it looked just as blurry. "Hold on, I need to adjust the resolution." When she did, the figures on the ships became clear as day. It was not a pleasant sight.

On the center most of the ships stood Saruman, formerly the white, now of Many Colors. The light fractured on his robes, splitting into a vivid display of color. In a way, he was like a distorted reflection of Gandalf, bearing his long hair and beard, set around a hooked nose and stern brow. But where Gandalf's eyes were filled with firm tenderness and compassion, Saruman's held nothing but cruelty, and an insatiable desire to extend hs will over all others. His technicolor robes were draped around his whole body, and he held a long staff in his hands, tipped with a black crystal set in seven fingers of stone.

Saruman was not alone. All around him, powerful magic users of all kinds were gathered, each carrying the same malicious, domineering manner. To his left was a woman dressed in robes of black and magenta. Her face was statue-esque in the most literal sense; exquisitely sculpted, but cold and stony. Deep brown hair grew down to her waist, and her face was as pale as snow, broken up by lips like blood. I couldn't say for certain, but just based upon her general demeanor and the company she kept, I figured she was Morgan le Fey.

To Saruman's right was a tall, well built man, dressed in a dark brown, knightly tunic with gold trimmings and accessories. Despite the noble look his attire, he bore no coat of arms. He was very handsome save for one especially noticeable blight on his face. His left eye...was made of ruby. That is to say that it had a pupil, an iris, sclera, but was colored a brilliant red, and had sharp edges like rock. Unlike with the woman, there was no denying who he was: this was Vilgefortz, one of the most dangerous mages in the Witcher World, his power matched only by his pure sadism.

Forget the narmy, unintentionally comical portrayal by Ralph Fiennes. Lord Voldemort was there, and he was horrific. His skin was perfectly smooth, shining with a viscosity that seemed most reminiscent of a stillborn-baby. This Voldemort had a nose, though it was small, and thin lips of pale pink. His eyes were pure red, save for the vertical black slits that were his pupils. The eyes were eternally fixed in the same expression of hatred, if only because he had no eyebrows.

In addition to these more prominent figures, there were also scores of lesser witches, warlocks, wizards, and mages of all kinds at their command. The nine ships probably carried over 400 magicians in total, most of them dressed in dark, hooded robes. One thing that stuck out to me was that they all carried the same kind of staff as Saruman, even those who wouldn't ordinarily carry one.

Saruman's lips moved, though we couldn't hear what he was saying since it was just a picture. Whatever it was, it was obviously an order to the others because they all responded by saying something in return. Saruman then held up his staff, and the others followed suit. With their staffs held aloft, they all held out their free hand, their fingers flexed as if grasping something in the air. Raising both their staffs and their hands, all of them chanted in unison. I could tell that they were channeling some truly potent dark magics, even without the glowing crystals in their staffs as a hint. It was pointless to ask what they were doing - we were about to find out.

They opened their mouths wide, presumably to shout, and brought their staffs down to the roof of the ships. When the bottom of the staffs hit the floor, a pulse of orange light exploded outwards from the ships. Shuri spun around to face Yennefer and shouted, "Brace for impact!"

Yennefer needed no convincing. Though she was offered a reprieve when the Harvester strike ended, she once more scrunched up her face as if she was about to collide face first with a brick wall. But when the orange pulse made contact with the barrier, nothing seemed to happen. We didn't feel any nerve-wracking shock waves or hear any rumbles or booms. We looked around the city to see if anything had been damaged, but as far as I could tell, everything was completely in tact.

That is, until I heard Shuri say, "Oh no!" with a shocked expression on her face. She was looking upwards toward the City-Destroyer, which was still hovering over us. The clouds of swarming, voracious mirodroids were falling out of the sky in a single layer. Those that landed on the barrier were vaporized instantly, while the rest settled on the ground as a thin film. But before we could even process the entire destruction of the microdroids, several more ships materialized instantly, dozens appearing at every point around the barrier. They spanned a variety of shapes and sizes; from the small, spherical scoutships of the Sontarans, to the elongate, cylindrical space stations of the cybermen with their rotating orbital rings, to the dual-bladed scorpion fighter jets of the Resource and Defense Administration. Hundreds of vessels blinked into place around the borders of the city, moving into strategic positions.

"Get ready, Yennefer," Shuri said, her eyes still lingering on the ships.

"I am aware," Yennefer said dryly, shifting her feet to better withstand the oncoming bombardment.

There came a moment when the ships, having maneuvered themselves into place, hovered in complete stillness, as if waiting for some signal. It became apparent just what signal this was just a few seconds later - one final ship appeared among the fleet, largest of all save the City Destroyer. It was called the Sanctuary two, and it must have stretched at least 1000 feet from wing tip to wing tip. Looking like a massive warehouse or stadium sandwiched in between two expansive lobes, its central core glowed with a dangerous red light. Somewhere in the very heart of that core was its commander - The Mad Titan and consort of Death herself: Thanos.

With the Sanctuary II at the rear of the formation, everything was terrifyingly silent. Even the whirring, buzzing, and humming of the shield generators seemed to fade away. The entire universe was holding its breath, waiting for the moment when it could hold on no longer.

It's hard to say which sense registered the attack first. Did we see the instant ignition of missiles, pulses, and beams, each one lit with a blinding white fluorescence tinted by some disparate corner of the electromagnetic spectrum or other? Did we hear the simultaneous, explosive blast of sound as each projectile exited its holder and made impact with the barrier? Was it the titanic shocks that coursed through every inch of the city, traveling up our legs and shaking our bodies? I suppose it doesn't matter either way since the end result was the same. A devastating barrage of powerful weaponry assaulted the barrier, pitting Yennefer against her most excruciating challenge yet. She cried out from the sheer strain of having to take the full brunt of the attack single handedly. And yet there was no denying the distress in her voice, the glistening moisture creeping down her cheeks, the numerous veins popping out all over her body, she was actually handling it. I had severely underestimated both Yennefer's raw magical power and Shuri's engineering skills: together they were withstanding an onslaught that would otherwise have reduced the entire city, the palace, and the tree into a very fine powder within seconds.

On the other hand, there was no telling just how long Yennefer would be able to endure the torment; probably not much longer judging by her anguished cries. Meanwhile, all the enemy had to do to keep up the attack was to keep pressing or hold down a button. Shuri realized this before I did, which is why used the vibranium beads on her wrist to pull up a projection of the Doctor. She said to him, "Doctor, Yennefer can't handle much more of this! The strain is going to overwhelm her! We need a replacement mage up here immediately!"

The miniature Nine said, "I don't exactly have one on hand at the moment. I'll call around, try to find someone as quickly as I can, but I can't say when they'll get there."

"Just do it!" Shuri said, hanging up before he could say anything else. "Waste of my time!" she said, closing her eyes, and putting a hand on her forehead. Clearly the stress was getting to her, and who could blame her? We were trapped at the epicenter of a city under siege, with no way to fight back ourselves, and with our only line of defense seemingly close to collapse. I wasn't feeling exactly chill either.

Shuri turned to me and said, "The Doctor's clearly busy with other matters. There's every chance he won't be able to find a replacement for Yennefer in time. I need you to go out and see if you can find someone to take her place."

"Okay...where do I look?" I asked, definitely caught off guard by the unexpected call to actually do something.

"Yennefer was stabilizing the evacuation portals in the Entrance Hall, so start there. If you can't find any, ask around," Shuri said, going back to the control console to see if she could alleviate some of Yennefer's pain.

"Okay-wait, no, uh….what's the security code to get back to the, uh… to here?"

"34667287," she said just a little too quickly.

I repeated the number out loud to myself, first rhythmically, then as a simple jingle. I used the short range teleport network to make my way to the Entrance Hall, but I was not expected for the mass chaos that awaited me upon arrival. The entire Hall - which itself was a cavernous structure meant to accommodate everything from giants to dinosaurs - was packed shoulder to shoulder with beings of every description. Between the claustrophobic conditions and the present state of the city under fire, everyone was in full panic, pushing past each other and screaming one another other in a racketous cacophony. A Silurian elbowed me in the ribs, and an Asymmetrical conked me on the head with one its finger-legs.

The situation instantly filled me with anxiety. Not only were the conditions of the Hall pretty stressful in and of themselves, but it also seemed absolutely impossible to find anyone in such a packed space. I was genuinely lost for any idea of how to proceed until I saw the yellow light coming from the center of the Hall. Figuring that these were the portals, I resolved to make my way in that direction, though it was easier said than done. It was like being caught in an aggressive under toe, tossed about in a current of churning limbs and bodies. In the end it became a lot easier to simply let the movement of the crowd lead me to the portals then to expend too much energy in trying to get there actively.

There were three portals open, being sustained by one mage each: Arturious Vigo, Francesca Findabair, and Sabrina Glevesig. I went up to Arturious and asked, "I need to find a mage - a powerful one to sustain the barrier from attack. Yennefer's losing strength."

"And who might you be exactly to make such a request?" the black haired sorcerer asked with an undo air of pompousness.

I was starting to feel Shuri's frustration. "I'm Patrick Murphy. You know, the guy who's…" and I made a sweeping gesture to encompass all around us.

"Oh my," he said, taken aback by who he was talking to. "Er, yes, I thought I saw Triss Merigold around here somewhere, not too long ago."

"Where was she?" I asked urgently.

"She was heading toward the short range teleport chambers, " he said.

Throwing up my hands, I proclaimed, "Goddamnit, I was just there!" Not even bothering to gauge his reaction to me, I returned to the corporeal tempest raging around us to make my way back to the teleport pods. After a good few minutes of crowd surfing, I finally made it, and was very happy to see that Triss was standing in front of a line of teleport pods, looking at them as if unsure if which one she should choose.

I called out to her quickly before she could make a choice, "Triss!" She didn't respond, no doubt because the racket in the Entrance Hall made it hard to hear anything. You'd have had to ask a Howler monkey to speak up in there. "Triss, over here!" I said, running toward her and speaking more loudly in hopes of getting her attention.

This time it paid off - she turned to look at me with a confused look on her face. "What is it?" she asked me in a tone that sounded just a bit off. It was as if she was juggling several thoughts at once, and in doing so, forgot who I was for a moment.

I ignored it and continued. "Yennefer's fading fast. Shuri and I need to get you up to the shield generators to reinforce the barrier."

Her eyes lit up at once. "Yes, absolutely!" she said with great urgency. "Do you have the security key?"

"I do!" I said, proud of myself for remembering it under my mental duress. I punched in the numbers 34667287 into the number pad, and Triss followed me into the pod as it zapped us all the way to the top most tower, where we saw Yennefer on her knees, barely able to sit up straight, and yet still giving every single ounce of strength she had left to keep the barrier in place. Shuri looked like she was on the verge of a full mental breakdown when she us appear and relief flooded her face.

All three of us ran over to Yennefer. Shuri said, "Quickly Triss, get into Yennefer's place while Patrick and I see to her."

"Of course," Triss said, taking the poles from Yennefer.

The instant Yennefer let go, she fell backwards into Shuri's and my arms. We carried her over to the side of the room, laying her down very gently on the floor, with her head resting in my lap. "Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

"...smashing…" she said, not dropping her biting wit even on the verge of fainting. The vivid violet shade of her eyes was so dull it was nearly grey, and her chest heaved up and down in a slow, uneven rhythm.

"Don't worry Yennefer, " Shuri said, holding the sorceress's head in her hands, "You just need rest. While Triss-" but she stopped speaking as she raised her head to look at Tris. I did as well, only to find that Triss was no longer standing in Yennefer's position. Instead, she was standing at the control console with both of the poles held high over her head. Before I could make any sense of what was happening, she brought the poles down on the console with all of her strength, smashing through the buttons, knobs, levers, and metal plating in a shower of sparks and snaps. The act caused the whole room to rapidly flicker in and out of darkness.

Shuri immediately stood up, forcing me to reach over and catch Yennefer's head in my hands. She dashed over toward the other side of the room where a pair of gauntlets tipped with the snarling visage of a ferocious panther were sitting on the edge of the console.

Triss saw what Shuri was up to, and used her longer legs to cut Shuri off, swiping at her with the poles, and sending her smashing into the floor on her back. Ignoring the incapacitated Shuri, Triss rushed over to where the gauntlets were, placing them both on her hands. At first I was worried that she was going to use them to shoot us down, but apparently destroying the control console - and by extension, the barrier - was more important to her. She blasted the controls several times with powerful streams of blue energy, which vaporised the console and left huge gaping holes where the inner machinations should have been.

This was too much. Shuri and I looked on helplessly as the barrier of light sheltering the city from total destruction, dissolved like sugar in water. But then, as if just to add to the whiplash of unexpected happenings, all the ships ceased firing. An eerie quiet fell over the whole city as the Sanctuary II lurched forward in the air, moving directly toward the center of the city. The only sound to be heard was the deep throb of its engines as its enormous bulk was carried overhead. Not long after, a sharp hiss and cracking sound sounded from the underside of the ship. Four huge trapezoidal structures slowly slid out of place from the ship's bottom, like old food slipping out of a can. When they finally lost the traction of the ship's walls, their rate of descent increased, and they landed with an earth-shaking thud right over the structure of the city, their sheer tonnage, smashing through anything unlucky enough to be in their path. Though they were sitting on the forest floor - the forest itself crushed underfoot - the towers themselves were tall enough to reach straight up into the rest of the city that was still in tact.

The four towers opened up like boxes, and the instant the space above them was made, hordes of creatures burst forth in a mad bid for freedom from within. From one of them, gigantic spiders the size of an SUV came crawling, scuttling over the sides of the sides of the towers, rapidly scurrying, then halting, then scurrying again, then halting again in the fashion of their tinier kin. The second tower unleashed a mixed mob of different creatures, some of which were bipedal, some of which were quadrupedal, and others seemed just as comfortable either way. The major thing they had in common were their lupine faces, bared in a vicious snarl as they leaped out of their confines and out into the city. The werewolves spanned the spectrum from mostly wolfish to just a little furry. The third tower let loose a raging tidal wave of savage creatures: humanoid abominations with black, leathery skin striped with streaks of pale yellow. Their eyeless faces twitched frantically like an ant's antennae, and their jaws snapped like bear traps lind with multiple rows of teeth like scalpels. With their four arms, they were just as comfortable sprinting on two legs or crawling on all six, deploying their terrible claws with brutal efficiency. Lastly, the final tower spewed forth a cloud of membranous-winged forms. Humanoid bats flocked in the thousands, twirling in the air high overhead, and then swooping back down to wreak havoc on the hapless citizens. At first I thought it odd that the vampires were allowed to reign terror during the day, only to remember that the Harvester's City Destroyer was still floating overhead, blocking out the sun.

Just as I was finally wrapping my head around everything that had just happened, Triss turned to Shuri, Yennefer, and me, pointing the panther gauntlets straight at us. "Move, and you're all dead," she said with a hideous, sadistic grin, revealing all of her teeth in an expression of pure malice. That's when it finally started to dawn on me, long after the point at which it should have.

"Who are you?" I asked her.

Instead of answering me, she held up her wrist to her mouth and said, "This is DW-004429284: I'm currently located in the top most tower of the palace. Target is present and ready for pick up. Over."

"Copy that, 004429284," a voice said in reply. "Heading to your position. Please stand by, over."

"Roger that. Over and out," she said.

Yennefer stirred from where she was lying, supporting herself by her arms. "If you're going to kill us, the least you can do is show us your true self, instead of hiding behind the face of my dear friend."

"Who said anything about killing you?" the Triss-imposter said with a cunning smile. "I have no intention of killing you...well, not all of you anyway...ok, fine, I'm going to kill all of you except for him," and she gestured toward me.

Several things happened at once. An electrical zapping sound came from behind me and Yennefer, casing the fake Triss's face to flash with terror. Before she could aim the gauntlets at the sound, a great ball of fire flew over our heads and struck the fake Triss right in the chest. Yennefer and Triss and I turned back to look and saw the real Triss - or, another at least - standing in the teleport pod, striking a dynamic pose from just having hurled the fire at her counterpart.

"Triss!" Yennefer said, sitting up to get a better look at her friend.

"Yennefer," Triss said gingerly as she knelt down and held Yennefer in her arms.

Looking from one Triss to the other, I quietly asked, "Um...are we sure-?"

"It's her," Yennefer said certainly. "I can read her thoughts."

As the fake Triss thrashed around, the flames consuming her entire shape, something strange began to happen. Normally, as something burns up, it grows smaller. Instead, Fake Triss seemed to grow wider. A thick, red smoke began to swirl around her as the flames consumed more of her form. By the time all of Fake Triss was gone, the red mist was all that was left. It swirled and congealed into a hulking mass colored like rust. As the seconds passed by, the incorporeal entity solidified into a truly horrible form. It was troll-like in shape, with red, knobby skin, squat legs with short toes, and long arms like a cancerous gorilla. The face, which bore two sagging pieces of skin and a short, beak-like snout, was most reminiscent of a turkey's. When it was finally revealed in all of its magnificent hideousness, it snarled at us with a guttural, gurgling voice like a lion mixed with a garbage disposal.

"Where's a witcher when you need one?" Yennefer said, scrunching her face in repulsion at the creature's appearance.

The monster quite clearly didn't appreciate that comment, and moved to grab Yennefer, but before it could, a series of energy blasts came shooting right at it, courtesy of Shuri, who had regained her footing and seized the gauntlets while the doppelganger regained its original shape. As the searing hot blasts singed huge gaping holes in its hide, causing huge globs of thick goop to spill out all over the floor. After a few crucial shots, the monster stumbled about clumsily, and then slipped on its own evergreen fluids, collapsing onto the floor in a puddle of the syrupy goo.

At first, we all took a moment to savor the moment of relative safety and relief, staring at the foul carcass, which looked strangely indignant; sprawled out face up on the floor, surrounded by its own insides. But the moment didn't last long. I turned to Triss and said, "Thanks," and then I turned to Shuri and added, "And you too, of course."

Shuri ignored me. "What is this creature?"

"Well…" I began tentatively, getting up to examine its remains, "If my cursory research of-" I stopped myself short. I almost said 'Marvel Comics' in front of a Marvel character no less. Picking back up, I just said, "Uh, my research, I think this is a Dire Wraith. They're shapshifting aliens."

"I think we all figured that much," Yennefer said.

"What they are doesn't matter," Triss said, "What matters is that we've been infiltrated. If there's one, chances are there are more."

"How did you know about this one?" I asked.

"I first started to get suspicious in Minas Tirith. Some of the sorceresses were saying that they saw me in places I hadn't been. I got really suspicious when someone said I went through one of the portals to the city. When I got here, Arturious Vigo said that you had gone off with me to the shield generators, so I got here as quickly as possible."

"We'll have to worry about the infiltrators later, " Yennefer said, getting back on her feet. "At the moment, the most pressing thing will be dealing with the swarms of monsters currently overrunning the city."

"What should I do?" I asked anxiously, "I can't fight."

"You shouldn't be in the fray either way," Yennefer said sternly. "Think Patrick - without the shields, those ships could blow this city to utter ruin in less time than it takes to blink. Why did they unleash those monsters? Because they are searching for something - they need to thoroughly comb the city for whatever it is they're after, and I'll give you one guess as to what that is."

"...Oh shit…" I said, feeling a chill course through my blood as I realized that, at that moment, thousands of ferocious, bloodthirsty creatures were swarming right toward me.

Yennefer placed her fingers on the obsidian pendant hanging from her necklace, which began to glow white at her touch. "Doctor, this is Yennefer, do you read me?"

"A little busy at the moment," Nine's frustrated voice said, coming from the diamond-encrusted jewel. "Is it important?"

"Oh not really, I just wanted to see if you'd be able make it over later for tea and biscuits - Of course it's important, you pompous ignoramous! I wouldn't have called if it wasn't."

"Okay, okay, just out with it, what do you need?" Nine said, clearly understanding her consternation, but none too pleased at dealing with it.

"The shield generators have been completely destroyed, and you can bet that those monsters are on their way here right now to take Patrick. What's the plan here?"

"Plan? There's no ruddy plan! The plan was to never let them inside the city in the first place!" Nine said, throwing some cheek back at her.

"So we're to stand around and do nothing? Wait for the war to be over, perhaps prepare some snacks for the victory party?" I had to hand it to Yennefer - few people could give it to the Doctor with this much style.

"Stay with him!" Nine said, ignoring her sass. "Protect him against anything that gets inside the palace. I'll try to get Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart to send some reinforcements. Until then, just keep him close."

"Doctor," Triss said, speaking into the pendant, "The UA has been infiltrated by shapeshifters. One of them was posing as me, that's how the generators were destroyed."

There was silence on his end. I could practically see him eyeing anyone else in the room, now aware that any one of them could be a direwraith in disguise. "Alright...okay, we're going to need mind readers and legilimens in all war council spaces. Can either of you come to the General Assembly Hall?"

"I thought we were to stay with Patrick?" Yennefer asked.

"Then bring him here!" Nine side, his eyes bulging in my mind's eye, thought Yennefer was still quite amused. "Over and out."

As Yennefer's pendant lost its glow, Shuri said, "Okay, you go with Patrick to the General Assembly Hall. I'm going to see if I can do anything to repair the shield generators."

Triss nodded at Shuri and said, "Good luck."

Shuri nodded once at all three of us, before moving off toward the console. Dispensing with the short range teleport pods, Yennefer opened a portal right there, delivering us to the Assembly Hall. The Hall had been adapted to serve as headquarters for the City Guard Mission Control. Nine and Gandalf was there, as well as a tall thin man with a black mustache set below a pair of blue, basset-hound eyes. He looked up at the three of us and said, "You should have knocked."

"I'll give you a knock," Yennefer said to him, "So what's the situation?"

The Brigadier pointed to the table in front of him, showcasing a miniaturized, scale model of the city in holographic form, with several of the areas flashing red. "The war towers landed in these four quarters, and their infantry and volantry-"

"Volantry?" I asked.

"Winged infantry," the Brigadier said before going on, "so far, as far as we can tell, they're making their way toward the palace in a spiraling motion, zeroing in toward the city center. The guard has been deployed, but the defense has thus far proved ineffective. You see, we need specialized troops to deal with four distinct threats, but every time our troops get into position, they're ambushed from the rear by the next regiment in the sequence."

"So a squadron will get into position to attack the vampires, and then be attacked by werewolves from behind," I said with a slow nod.

"Exactly," the Brigadier said. "It doesn't help that the bulk of our armed forces, as well as our two superhero teams, are both still out on mission to Gotham and Minas Tirith."

"Which I highly doubt is a coincidence," Triss said.

"Precisely," the Brigadier said "Unless we can get reinforcements into the city soon, we may just be making our final stand."

"There must be someone we can call for help?" I pleaded with him. "The Na'vi? The Asteromoprhs?"

The Brigadier sniffed derisively. "Sauron - or whoever's really in charge here - seems to have anticipated that as well. We've reached out to all of our allies, but so far they've either not responded, or else answered only to say that they're facing an attack as well."

I didn't notice how unevenly I was breathing, how much I was sweating, how my fingertips were digging into my palms. This couldn't be it - not now, not after all that had been accomplished. The greatest society ever created - done in completely in less than five years? A conflict was raging between my logical capacity to understand the situation, and my total reluctance to accept it.

"We have but one option left to us," Gandalf said,raising his head to look at us. "We must invoke the terms of the pact we signed with Ms. Vernor."

I grew suddenly terrified, fear outweighing reason by leaps and bounds. "What? But..we-we can't-"

"There is no other way," Gandalf said, slowly shaking his head. "It is what we agreed, and too much blood has been spilt as it is."

"What pact is this exactly?" Yennefer asked.

Nine said, "At the last General Assembly Meeting, Hope Vernor agreed that - should any of the garrisons fail to prevent Sauron's forces from entering - she would undo this world, sending us all back to where we came from."

"I see," Yennefer said, trying to grapple with what would such a decision would mean. "Well then, why hasn't she done it already? The shields have failed, as have our first lines of defense. Surely this would qualify?"

All three of the men exchanged quizzical looks. Nine said,"That's...true...hold on," and he held up his mobile communicator, pressing a few buttons before saying, "Hope, this is the Doctor, do you come in, over?"

No response.

"Hope, this is the Ninth Doctor, we need you to fulfill you're end of the pact made with the Council. This is an absolute emergency, worst case scenario, over."

Still nothing.

"What's the delay?" the Brigadier asked, "I was told this Hope character can't be killed."

"Believe me, Brigadier, you'd be surprised the sorts of things people can live through…" Yennefer said ominously, glancing briefly at Triss.

"You think she's been captured?" Nine asked.

"Why not?" Yennefer asked rhetorically, "They've learned the importance of Patrick in this endeavor - perhaps they've learned of hers as well, and have disabled her from returning us all home."

"No, no, no that makes no sense," Nine said, pacing from one of the table to the other, "wouldn't they want to go back too?"

"Perhaps that's what this has all been about?" Triss said with a shrug, "Maybe we thought they were after Patrick, when really they just wanted Hope?"

"No, they definitely want Patrick," Yennefer said. "The creature, the...what was it? Dire something?"

"Dire wraith?" I finished.

"Yes, that Dire Wraith wanted Patrick specifically...perhaps they want both?" Yennefer asked.

Nine protested, "But that still doesn't solve the issue of why they don't want to go back as well."

Gandalf said, "That is no great mystery. If Sauron truly is the one in at their command, then I can see why he would prefer to remain here. There is more here, more for him to rule over, and bend to his wicked will. I've no doubt that Sauron would prefer to remain here if it gave him greater power. Even if it isn't Sauron who leads them, any being malicious and powerful enough to direct such forces would have to have an equal or greater lust for power."

Before any of us could say anything else, a loud smash rang through the Hall, causing all of us to flinch from surprise, spinning around in all directions. I couldn't tell where it came from; the cavernous hall carried the echo of the sound from one end to the other. But as more crashes filled the room, I and the other settled on the main doorway. At two points along the door, the surface projected outwards to a point, as if something outside had slammed or punched against it. The moment we all saw it, Triss and Yennefer's hands lit up, Triss' filling with fire, while Yennefer's shine with white. Gandalf reached toward his waist and unsheathed Glamdring, and the Brigadier pulled out a pistol, which he aimed directly at the door. Nine's blue-tipped sonic screwdriver didn't look quite so impressive by comparison.

But even as they all prepared from the assault of the main doorway, we heard more smashes from the door behind us. Then one of the side doors. Soon, each and every door way out of the Assembly Hall rang with the rampant, eager bashing of the doors from the unknown assailants outside.

We all knew it was only a matter of time. As it was, the matter of time was about 25 minutes. The stone doors cracked, dust drifting lazily down from the point of impact. Block after block, the doors were torn away, all as a thick cloud of dust was kicked up into the air, acting as a wall between us and the intruders. Everyone's weapons were aimed and primed. All we need was the visual signal - the whites of the enemies eyes upon which to rain fire. The seconds ticked by breathlessly , but still there was nothing in sight but dusty vapor. It certainly didn't help that - at that precise moment - the bioluminescent flora lining the walls and ceiling, which acted as the only source of light in the Hall, began to flicker.

The particles finally began to settle. As they did, a shadowy form came into view. It appeared tall and broad, vaguely humanoid in shape, but no details anywhere on its face. Even as I tried to make it out what it was, the Brigadier shouted, "Attention - you are trespassing in a restricted military zone. Lay down your arms and put your hands in the air or you will be shot."

The figure was still as stone.

"Fire!" the brigadier shouted, following his own command along with Triss and Yennefer. Triss hurled a blazing ball of orange flame at the figure, while Yennefer shot bolts of white lightning from her palms. The Brigadier's bullets weren't quite so spectacular, but they hit their target nonetheless...at least, it looked like they did. As near as any of us could tell, given the failing lights, it looked as if they all hit the figure dead on, and yet it didn't so much as jiggle in place. They might as well have thrown sticks at a boulder.

"Wait!" Nine shouted, holding up his hands for them all to stop.

"What?" The Brigadier asked.

"I thought…" and he squinted at the threshold were the figure stood. "Gandalf, could you give us some more light?"

Gandalf held up his staff slightly above the ground. As he did, the crystal hidden in the brambles at the top emitted a white light, weak at first, but growing as the staff rose higher in Gandalf's hand. When the light was strong enough, it cast the first revealing rays onto the figure, which continued to stand as still as a statue. In fact, it was a statue, or at least that's what it looked like. The statue was of an angel; the wings folded at its side had given it the appearance of having broad shoulders. It was dressed in a flowing, sleeveless gown, and its cupped hands covered its face as if it were weeping.

Yennefer began to speak, "What the-?"

"Don't move," Nine said, his eyes fixated on the statue, "Don't...blink."

"What's going on?" Triss said, her voice filled with a mixture of confusion and distress. But before she could get an answer, another one of the doorways crumbled into a dusty fog, behind which another weeping angel was standing. A third doorway fell, a third dust cloud settled, and a third angel was revealed.

"Everybody in a circle, quickly!" Nine said, pulling us close together, "Keep your eyes on the angels!" We did as instructed, and he arranged us into a circle facing outwards we had eyes on each doorway, including the four that were still intact.

"Doctor, what is it?" Yennefer asked, wisely following his direction and keeping her eyes on the angels in view. "These statues, what are they?"

"They're not statues," he said simply. "They're alive."

"Come Doctor," the Brigadier said, "I've spent enough time at UNIT to trust you on these sorts of things, but you're going to have to do a better job explaining."

"Where to begin," Nine said, more to himself than to us.

"Perhaps what they're called would be a good start?" the Brigadier asked sardonically.

"They're called the Weeping Angels. No one knows where they came from, or just how long they've been around for. What we do know is that they have one of the most unique and remarkable defense mechanisms in the history of evolution. They're quantum-locked: in the sight of any other living thing, they instantly cease to exist as biological entities. They only exist when they're not being observed."

"Seems it should be easy to handle them then," Yennefer said.

Nine continued, "The problem is that they're fast - they move by temporally displacing themselves, which means they can cover extraordinary distances in milliseconds."

"In other words," Triss said, "In the time it takes for a person to blink."

"I see," the Brigadier said, "And what would they do when they reach you?"

"Normally, they displace you in time in order to feed on your potential energy, sending you back to an earlier point….but given how little time this universe has existed for, I'm not sure if that's what they'll do here…" Nine said.

"Why do they cover their faces that way?" the Brigadier asked.

"It's obvious isn't it?" Triss said. "They can't risk looking at each other, or at their own reflection, otherwise they'd be trapped in place forever."

I noticed that there were some important characteristics of the Weeping Angels that he was omitting. It took me a few seconds to remember that the Doctor didn't learn certain things about the angels until his 11th incarnation, things which Nine wouldn't realize. So I took it upon myself to pick up where he left off. "Also, be careful when you're looking at them. If you stare directly into the eyes of a Weeping Angel, the image becomes imprinted in your brain. And that which holds the image of an angel becomes itself an angel."

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" the Brigadier asked.

"Oh do keep up, Brigadier," Yennefer said, resisting the urge to turn and give him a patronizing look, "He means that they can project themselves through anything that holds an image of them. So if you have the image of one imprinted on your mind-"

"Yes, I get the picture," he said.

"As for what they do when they reach you," I added, "They can tear out a piece of your brain and reanimate your cerebral cortex in order to restore a piece of your consciousness. This allows them to communicate with someone even when they're quantum locked."

"Anything else?" the Brigadier asked ironically, "Can they grow to be 100 feet tall and shoot biscuits from their underarms?"

"Actually-" I began, remembering that at least one Weeping Angel did grow to be over 300 feet tall (in fact, it was the Statue of Liberty) but I didn't get the chance to finish. Gandalf's staff began to flicker just as the plants had. As it dimmed, the angels almost faded from view in the falling dark. "...Oh shit," I said.

"Doctor" the Brigadier said, the first traces of nervousness appearing in his otherwise deadpan facade, "If we can't keep the light on, we're no better than sitting ducks. They've got all the exits blocked, we can't form a retreat."

"Perhaps you've forgotten that there are two fully capable sorceresses in your presence?" Yennefer said, not losing her composure for even a second. Without need for any instruction, Yennefer stepped back and flung her arms open in the way she does whenever she opens a portal...except that none opened. "What?" Yennefer asked, just as much to herself as to any of us. "It was just working not half an hour ago."

Triss did the same, only to find that she couldn't do it either. "Something's dampening our magic."

"That'll be the angels," Nine said. "Their primary food source is potential energy, but they can feed off other forms if necessary…including magical ones, it would seem…"

Triss held out her hand, attempting to conjure a fireball, but could muster nothing more than a flicker so feeble it wouldn't have been good enough to light a cigarette. "Godsdamnit!" she yelled, "We're trapped."

The lights blinked out completely for about a quarter of a second. When they came back on, the angels had advanced about half the distance to us. Their movement was so rapid that it caused Triss, Yennefer, the Brigadier, and I to gasp and flinch in place, and even Gandalf and the Doctor were visibly unnerved. This wasn't helped by the fact that the angels had uncovered their faces, revealing gaping mouths lined with fangs, as if petrified mid-scream. Their arms were extended forward in our direction, fingers flexed in savage desperation. It was obvious to us that, if the lights failed for any length of time, no matter how unnoticeable by us, the angels would have us.

"Brigadier!" Nine shouted, "Fire your gun! The light from the shots will keep the angels away!"

The Brigadier fired at the angel in front of him just as the lights died down again. He didn't top firing, even as the angels reappeared again, their fingernails mere centimeters from closing in around us. The detail preserved in the stone was surreal, as if a brutal cruelty had been immortalized in the rock. The contrast between the silent darkness and the explosive shots of the brigadier, with the faces of the angels highlighted by the sparks, caused my heart to leap with each bullet fired. No matter which way I turned, there were angels: dozens of them, each one fixed with an expression of unstoppable rabidity.

I had never felt such terror before. The end was so close that I could practically breathe in its face. Hope's assurances that I couldn't die here gave me no comfort. If anything, it only made the prospect of falling into the angels' hands all the more horrible. What would they do with me? What _could _they do with me? My imagination flooded with so many tortuous possibilities that I could conceive of nothing else. I saw nothing but visions of pain and torment, stretching on and on until the end of all things here.

I heard the click of the brigadier's pistol, signifying the loss of our last hope of light.

The lights dimmed for the last time.


End file.
